


Savior

by NoseyPepper



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:56:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoseyPepper/pseuds/NoseyPepper
Summary: Some people believe in love at first sight. It's a tricky feat, falling in love; especially if you fall in love just by seeing someone for the first time. It's hard to believe in something like that, what with the pain and fear that inevitably follows. But, people will never know what's possible if they don't face that pain and fear head on, will they?
Relationships: Brittana - Relationship, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	1. Safe

Some people believe in love at first sight. It's a tricky feat, falling in love; especially if you fall in love just by seeing someone for the first time. It's hard to believe in something like that, what with the pain and fear that inevitably follows. But, people will never know what's possible if they don't face that pain and fear head on, will they?  
I never thought I'd be completely and utterly in love, committed, and whipped as fuck at such a young age. But, here I am, so proud and in love. She's my light. She's my strong shoulder. She's my baby girl. Every day that I get to see her smile is another day I find myself falling harder. Yeah, I'm a romantic.  
Things aren't that simple, though. But, nothing is ever simple. Not life. Not empathy. Not passion. Definitely not love. She brings those out in me, though. I'd be crazy not to fight for her. I don't need things to be simple. I just need her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her scent. Her scratchy morning voice. Her hand holds. Her kisses. Yeah, I don't need simple.  
She's feisty and intelligent, and it's hard for her to let people do things for her. But, in those minuscule moments that she lets her vulnerability show, she's beautiful. Not that she isn't beautiful all the time. God is she gorgeous. I just enjoy the rare moments in which she gets shy and quiet, and asks for me. It feels good to be needed by the person you love more than anything. I don't mind when she's needy because that means she gets cuddly. And I get to hold her. Yeah, my girl's a cuddle-bug.  
She's my savior. I didn't realize in the moment that I saved her that she'd save me in more ways than I can imagine. That day was like any other day. I woke up, ate breakfast, and packed my bag for school. I didn't expect that day to change my life forever. I remember the sounds of lockers and shuffling feet. I remember seeing kids running to beat the tardy bell.  
I wish I could say bullying is something I saw rarely. But, it was an everyday occurrence, and it was no different on the day that changed my life forever. I don't know what I'd do if, by some twist of fate, I hadn't stopped to break up the group of bullies. I don't like thinking about what my life would be like now if I hadn't jumped in to save her. She was terrified; I'd never seen anyone shake the way she shook as they surrounded her. It was one of the handfuls of times I was glad I held a high place on the social ladder. I was able to disperse the attack. The bullies lost interest, and I was left alone with the girl shielding her face with her arms.  
I felt the strangest urge to comfort her. I had never been one to wear my heart on my sleeve, but she had me bleeding. I didn't even know her, yet. I spoke to her gently, trying my damned hardest to show her I wouldn't hurt her. I kneeled down in front of her, and I guess she sensed my hesitance, because the next thing I knew she was curled up against my chest chanting 'thank you'. I just held her, one hand pressed between her shoulder blades, the other pressed against the small of her back. I felt at peace holding her, not realizing it was because I had found my soul mate in that moment.  
My heart stopped when I caught sight of her backpack ripped open and dumped. I changed in that moment, because I wouldn't want to feel the violation she must have felt. I vowed never to inflict such violation on any person again. I felt my heart strings pull tighter when I saw that her books had been ripped, their spines broken. I hadn't recognized, at first, why I could only see empty pages. But, her name was written in black ink, the books labeled by class. Braille. Her books were written in braille. They had dismantled her walking cane and threw it out of her reach. I leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. I'm not sure why I did that, but it makes much more sense now. Love at first sight does exist.


	2. Sunbeam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There comes calmness in the moment you hold the love of your life in your arms.

There comes calmness in the moment you hold the love of your life in your arms. I don't think I'll forget the steadiness of her breathing, the way that feels against my chest, for as long as I live. She has a habit of fisting my shirt in her hands while she sleeps, and I don't know if I can even fall asleep without that feeling. And the fact that the morning sun is seeping in through the curtains, framing her face so perfectly, is not helping my racing heart.  
Her cheek is pressed against my heart, a strand of dark hair swaying back and forth as she breathes. I hate waking her up, but the face she makes is too adorable not to. I lean down to kiss her forehead while I slip my hand underneath her shirt, drawing patterns on the soft skin of her back. She scrunches her nose, the look that's unbearably adorable, and licks her dry lips. She smiles up at me, burying her nose further into my chest. If I thought my heart was racing before, it's running a marathon now.  
"Goo' mornin'." Oh man, there goes that scratchy morning voice.  
"Morning, baby. You sleep well?" I asked as she got comfortable on top of me, ready for her morning cuddles. Damn, I just realized how girly that sounds. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't waken up to my cuddle-bug every morning, though. So, I let out a content sigh and rest my arms against her back.  
"Mmhm, we should get up and make breakfast." I smile because she's always hungry.  
"Okay, let's go get food in that belly. It's talking to us." I giggle at the series of growls her stomach made.  
I can't help but smile from ear to ear as I watch her make her way to the kitchen. I don't know what I did to get this lucky, but all she sleeps in is panties and a t-shirt that barely covers her perfect butt.  
"Stop staring at my butt, baby!"  
"Wha-"  
I could hear her giggling, most likely because she caught me red handed.  
There's warmth in knowing the person you love more than anything loves you back. That warmth exists in your heart, and you can feel it consume the entirety of your being. Without that person, days seem duller and nights seem colder. You strive to give them the same warmth they give you. It doesn't matter how long you've been with them, because they've made a permanent home in your heart, and that warmth kind of stops /existing/ there; it becomes a steady thing that you don't have to search for anymore. It's just there.  
"Baby? Are you gonna come help me cook?" Her voice never fails to make me swoon. Sometimes, if I'm extremely quiet, I can listen to her sing. It's not something she does often, and the moment she realizes I'm there, she stops. But, there are rare times I've been blessed to hear a complete rendition. I'm not sure if she's figured out that I've heard her, but that little smile she gives me, when she turns at the sound of my voice, gives her away. I stop day dreaming long enough to reply.  
"Yeah baby, I'm coming."  
Making breakfast together is something we've perfected over the years. Years. Oh God, I've been with her for four years, and every day feels like the first time I told her I love her. There's something so comforting in the way she moves. When she's home, and safe, she moves with ease, humming to her music. It's like the outside world, although never out of her reach, can't touch her. Her smile is brighter when there's familiarity. There's familiarity in the way I take her hands gently, guiding her through the things she can't see. It's funny how that works for making breakfast and for life, huh?  
She's strong. Although, with every ounce of strength comes a shred of doubt. There's nothing that breaks my heart more than when her beautiful eyes fill with tears, and all I can do is hold her, trying my damnedest to show her she's worth everything people tell her she's not. I've learned how to deal with certain situations. I've learned the ins and outs of her blindness. Most importantly, I've learned who she is and what makes her smile. So, when she asks for my help, she doesn't mean do it for her. She means do it with her.  
No matter what, I'll always help her strive for her best. She saved me at my worst. So, why shouldn't I help her become her best? That's the affect the warmth has on me. She's the sun. She's the stars. She's the warmth. She's my San.


	3. Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you love someone, you'll do everything in your power to protect them.

When you love someone, you'll do everything in your power to protect them. The world is a bitter place full of obstacles and tests. In order to pass those tests, you have to surpass the obstacles within yourself. Once you break down those obstacles, you have a clearer, purer view of the world, of people around you. Egocentrism withers, making it easier to focus on others. Not everyone has worked through their obstacles, though. It's not always pretty when you run into those people. They have a tendency to cast shadows over your happy moments. But, in order to protect the one person who means everything to you, you have to keep them away from the dark. The world is sour; it's up to you to make your own story sweet.  
Speaking of sweet, when the love of your life walks into the living room, dressed like an adorable Eskimo, asking you to take her out for dinner on one of the coldest days the year has had, you can't help but say yes. The smile on her face pulls at my heart strings, man.  
"Let *kiss* me *kiss* get *kiss* dressed *kiss*." I can't help but steal as many kisses as I can when she looks this adorable.  
"Where do you want to go?"  
"I don't mind, baby, preferably somewhere with braille menus."  
"I already typed out my favorite orders, anywhere is fine." I grin ear to ear, because, of course she's already typed her favorite orders. That's just who she is. She's my San, my adorably quirky, shy, feisty San.  
"Let's go eat, baby." I slide her order into my wallet for safe keeping, and hold my left hand out for her right hand so she can hold her walking cane with her left.  
I'm used to the stares I get when we take walks. They're the same kind of stares we used to get when we were still in high school. They look at her with pity, and I'm so thankful that she can't see those looks. They should look at her in awe, not pity. She is so much more than her inability to see. I guess she can sense my insecurity, because she grips my hand tighter and rests her head against my arm.  
"Baby?"  
"Hmm?"  
"You're the best girlfriend. They're just staring because you're pretty."  
I snort out a short laugh because my girl's intuition is impeccable. "I love you, San."  
"I love you, too, B."  
We're greeted at the entrance of the restaurant, and, for the most part, the atmosphere is welcoming. But, I'm a little on edge as I see a group of teenagers a few tables over. I try not to show my anxiety as I take her coat and lay it in the booth next to me. She collapses her cane and sets it next to her, still unaware of the teenagers' presence. I'm grateful for that. When the waiter asks questions, he speaks directly to me. It's frustrating because people don't realize how brilliant she is. I wish they could understand that her eyes might be broken, but her brain is magnificent.  
"What are you in the mood for tonight, baby?" I ask, hoping that the waiter gets the hint. He does, and I'm pleased.  
I giggle as she arranges her food in certain positions. I asked her why she arranges her food. She said it helps her visualize what things look like so she doesn't have to search around the table. It's so simple, but it's so her and I can't help but appreciate it.  
"What are you giggling at, Britt?" She asks around a smile.  
"You're cute." I say as I reach across the table and hold her right hand. She blushes and takes a mouthful of food.  
"How was work, baby?" Her genuine curiosity about my day never fails to make me swoon.  
"It was great. I think the class is really excited about my new choreography." I explain to her that I get to choreograph and teach a dance to various age groups.  
"Oh, baby, that's so amazing. You'll have to show me what you created."  
"It's a date. How was your day?" I ask as a caress her hand with my thumb.  
"It was exciting. We got a new shipment of typewriters. They gave me one to try out, and I can't wait to show you." She's so cute when she's excited.  
"I can't wait to see it, baby. Maybe we can run by the store to get more paper on the way home?" Sometimes, we curl up on the couch and she teaches me how to use her new technology. Or, I take her hands and guide her through some rough choreography before I take it to work the next day. Other nights we spend with friends and family. I don't mind how we spend our time, as long as I'm surrounded by people who love us.  
"That sounds great, B." She caresses my hand back.  
We're drawn out of our conversation by the sound of the teenagers' laughter. They're making snobby comments, and I can tell she's already heard them. She's wriggling in her seat, head hung low. It breaks my heart. No one deserves to hear they're not worth being loved. A part of me wants to write it off as them being stupid teenagers, but I know that no one should ever think it's okay to belittle someone.  
"How about we go to the store for your paper, and then you can teach me how to use your new keyboard?" I say as I kiss the back of her hand, desperately trying to distract her.  
I stand up to help her with her coat, and I put her cane in my purse. She knows I won't let her run into anything.  
I wish I could protect her from sour words and people like I can protect her from physical objects. But, I know everything will be okay when she grips my hand and nuzzles her nose against my cheek. She knows I love her.


	4. Saccharine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M  
> With sourness comes saccharinity. While it can be difficult to find the sentimentality in such situations, there is always light. Once you discover that light, a moment of epiphany or deep understanding, you can finally grasp the saccharinity.

With sourness comes saccharinity. While it can be difficult to find the sentimentality in such situations, there is always light. Once you discover that light, a moment of epiphany or deep understanding, you can finally grasp the saccharinity. And, right now, my moment of saccharinity is humming in the bathroom as she finishes her bedtime routine. She was unusually quiet on the way home, and I knew the teenagers at the restaurant hurt her more than she cared to express. It hasn't always been easy for her to open up about her feelings. But, I'll always be ready when she needs me.  
I smile as she walks to our bed, dressed only in a t-shirt, hair damp from our shower. She feels for the edge of the comforter as she climbs in, scooting closer to me. I hold my arm out so she can curl into her usual spot against my chest.  
"Which movie will it be tonight, baby?" I ask, leaning down to kiss her. I feel her smile into the kiss, and I relax, knowing she's feeling better.  
"I'm not in the mood for a movie," she whispers against my jaw line, teardrop kisses making their way down to my neck. Her hand slides underneath my shirt and tickles its way across my ribs, right below my breast.  
"Mmhm, what are you in the mood for?" I giggle out as I sit up, pulling her into my lap to straddle me. I slip my hands underneath her shirt, relishing in the softness of her back.  
"You." I can feel her tongue against my collarbone, and it's addicting. The feel and the smell of her are overwhelming in the best way. Her legs are locked against my hips, and I'm home. I'm lucky enough to be the one she opens herself up to, and I'll cherish her forever. I snap out of my haze as I feel her hands reaching for the hem of my shirt. I help her lift it over my head, giving her more room to caress, to kiss, to feel.  
If I had to choose something positive about her blindness, it's that her touch is breath-taking. She takes in more with her touch than a sighted person could ever dream of taking in with their eyes. It's taken my breath away since the first time she touched my face.  
It was our second date. I took her to the carnival, and I can still remember the excitement in her face when I won her the stuffed rabbit she still loves. She ducked her head and blushed when I told her how beautiful she looked, admitting that her mom had taken her shopping specifically for our date. I told her she'd look perfect in anything and kissed her cheek.  
I gasped playfully when she told me she'd never had cotton candy before, so I bought a cone to share. She held the cone tightly as I tore a piece and held it to her lips. I smiled and watched her figure out the texture with her tongue. I smiled even harder when she said her lips were sticky, but reached for another piece. In that moment, I wanted to kiss her more than anything. We boarded the Ferris wheel and rested her hand against my thigh, palm up. I remember the way she threaded her fingers through mine, engraving in her mind the way my hand felt. My heart picked up speed as she told me she wished she could know what I look like. This is the only time I have ever despised her blindness, because if there were ever a day that I couldn't see her beautiful face, I'm not sure what I would do. I gently grasped her wrists as she cupped my face in her hands. It's the same touch she used to 'see' my face that still takes my breath away.  
Her kisses against my breast bone draw me back in.  
"Yeah? What do you want to do to me, baby?" I whisper up the column of her throat.  
"Make you writhe," she husks out as she bends down and takes my nipple into her mouth.  
I look down to see her head is tilted to the side; her curls are swept clear of her neck. "Oh God."  
She releases my breast with a giggle, "Actually, it's Santana. But, that works, too."  
"I need you more naked, San." I nip at her exposed neck as I reach down to the hem of her shirt. She moans out in pleasure as my fingers graze over her breasts, pulling the shirt off and throwing it to the side.  
"I love you," She gasps out as she rests her forehead against mine, stroking my cheek with her thumb. Her left hand is playing with the elastic of my panties.  
"I love you, too, so fucking much." I rise up enough to help her pull my underwear down. My muscles flex as my grip on her back and butt tighten. She loosens her legs around my waist long enough for me to lay her back and slip her panties off, but she's back in my lap before I can blink.  
I feel those amazing fingers working their way down my abs, and I shiver when her fingertips cup my mound softly. Her lips work the skin near my ear, taking the lobe into her mouth as her fingers slip into my sensitive folds.  
"Mm, you're so wet, baby." There's that husky voice that never ends to send a jolt where I need it most.  
"Only you can do that to me, beautiful," I whisper against her lips before taking her bottom lip between my teeth.  
"Tell me what you need, B." She finds my clitoris so easily, like only she can, and I choke out my request.  
"I-Insi-," I manage, but she understands my moan, and teases downward to my entrance.  
She slides one finger in, enough stimulation to get me ready for a second finger. Caressing my folds with her thumb, she slips a second finger in. I still can't get over how well she knows my body. She knows which movements create the most pleasure, and at exactly which moments to apply or relieve pressure. She leans down to take my nipple into her mouth as her fingers pick up speed, curling upward on each pump. I can only grip her waist in my hands as my hips start to roll into her thrusts, laying open mouthed kisses to her bare shoulder. I can't suppress the moans that are tumbling out against her skin and she deepens her thrusts, teasing her fingertips against my g-spot. Have mercy, how she knows my body. I feel her arm wrap around my back for support as my thighs quiver under her.  
"That's it, baby. Let go," she says breathlessly against my ear as her thrusts quicken even more, and her fingers curl against and tease my spot relentlessly. I can feel myself stiffen and arch, my hips still moving in tight circles. The ball of warmth low in my stomach releases, and her thumb slips against the wetness.  
"Oh, baby," I can't help but gasp out as I kiss her neck. My breath comes back to me as I take in her face. She's blushing furiously, and her mound comes in contact with my belly with every circle her hips make.  
"Please touch me, baby. Please." She begs and she leans in to kiss me, her arms wrap around my neck as she continues to grind herself against my lap.  
"Shh, I'm right here, baby," I try to comfort her frantic movements. Lowering my head to her breast, I take in her nipple and suck gently. I secure my grip around her back and lay her down. Her hips are still making circles, searching for stimulation. I lift my mouth from her breast and kiss a wet path from her chest bone to her belly button. Holding down her hip with one hand, I reach down to spread her folds before licking a hot path from her entrance to her clitoris.  
I can hear her satisfied whimpers, but I'm too submerged in everything Santana to encourage her with words. I only trace patterns and words into her folds before taking her clitoris into my mouth. I can feel her wetness seeping onto my chin, and I never want to leave. I release her swollen nub to I trace 'I love you' in her folds before returning to suck gently.  
I reach my right hand down to enter her with two fingers, and I let my left hand tickle up to grasp her breast. Her nipple is painfully stiff as I roll it between my fingers. Her scent is overwhelming as she rolls her hips into my face and fingers. I know her body better than I know my own, and I know what her whimpers and sighs mean. Gently scissoring my fingers, I release her clitoris to zigzag my tongue against her folds. By the way her head is thrown back against the sheet, and the beads of sweat rolling toward her collarbone, I can tell this is exactly what she needs.  
I tease my fingertips against her g-spot, and flick my tongue rapidly over her clitoris to bring her to her crescendo. A moan rises from her throat as the tendons in her neck strain. I slow my pace as her whimpers lessen and her thighs relax around my shoulders. When she relaxes, I kiss my way up to her mouth.  
She releases a content sigh as she curls into my side; her leg rests against my hips. Her left hand comes up to caress the apple of my cheek, and in this moment I've found my saccharinity.


	5. Satiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dimmed lights of our bathroom, and through the scent of cherry blossom, I realize I'm never more satisfied than when I am with her.

Her brow is still warm with sweat, but that doesn't keep me from kissing her hairline. I can tell she's on the verge of deep sleep, but she's fighting to stay awake as her toes brush against my calf gently. Her warmth is radiating against my arm that's wrapped around her waist, my fingers caressing the skin there. When her breath caught up to her, I cradled her skull so that my thumb could tickle next to her ear. She has my hip in the grasp of her right hand, while her left hand lays curled between our breasts. I look around our bedroom to find the comforter is no longer on the bed, and the sheet has been shoved to the edge. We aren't even facing the correct edge of the bed, but I'm too content with her weight against me to do anything about it. I feel her fingers flexing against my hip as she struggles to stay awake, and all I can respond with is a kiss and chuckle against her forehead.  
"What are you laughing at, B?" Her voice is still a little rough, but oh so sexy.  
"You made me writhe," I whisper out between chuckles.  
Her smile widens and the skin by her eyes creases as the smile I love so much takes over, "I did, didn't I? I told you I would."  
"That you did, baby," I hum out as I run my fingers against her hipbone.  
"Can I ask you something?" Her voice is a little shaky, and it takes me out of my haze.  
"Anything, San," I answer gently, knowing whatever she's about to ask is serious.  
"Do you ever wish I could see?" She speaks quietly, and I've been dreading this question. Not because the answer is yes, but because I never want her to feel like she needs to change.  
"I don't. Sometimes I wish you could see just so that you could experience certain things the world has to offer, like, colors and patterns, things that take more than just sight to see," I quickly counter so she knows I'm not finished, "But, I love the way you experience the world, and I honestly don't know what I'd do if one day, magically, you could see. I've spent so much time learning how to experience things the way you do, and I don't want that to change. This is my life, our life, and I am utterly in love."  
I hope to anything almighty that I've comforted her worries.  
"I wish I could see," she whispers shamefully, so I tighten my grip around her waist and brush my fingers over her earlobe.  
"May I ask why, baby?"  
"You'd have a chance at a normal life. People would stop staring at you when you take me out."  
"My life with you is normal. It's our normal. I would never have learned braille, and now I don't know what I'd without your love notes taped to the fridge. They make my entire day. I don't know what I'd do if I came home to a silent apartment and didn't get to hear your typing. That sound is home to me. I don't think I could set a table without clock formation even if I tried. I don't mind the stares. I'd rather have people stare if that means I have you."  
"I didn't know you loved those things," she says with a hint of a smile. Score.  
"Mmhm, I have every note we've ever given each other. I even have the ones when I was first learning braille, and the typing is shitty and jumbled. But, I keep them because they're ours."  
She snorts out a laugh, "I remember those. They really sucked."  
"Hey!" I laugh out loud at her joke.  
"Your shitty notes meant the world to me. They still do, even if you've perfected your skills. You're the first person, outside of family, who ever showed an interest."  
"I've loved you since the moment we met. I wanted to show you that I meant everything. So what if I had to struggle my way through shitty typing at first, I'm great now. Boo yeah." I can feel her chuckles reverberating against my chest. It's the best feeling in the world.  
"Mm, you're very cocky," she says as her forehead finds mine.  
"You know it," I give her an Eskimo kiss.  
"I'm sorry for ruining the mood," she murmurs quietly.  
"You could never ruin the mood, baby. We're still naked and your boobs are in my face, the mood is definitely still intact," I joke to make her laugh. Her laugh fills the room and I grin until my cheeks hurt.  
"In that case, I'm gonna start a bubble bath. Would you care to join me?" She asks me as she sits up, and in her naked glory, strides to the bathroom. My eyes linger on her body as she runs her fingertips against the edges of the furniture along her path.  
That woman's gonna be the death of me. I leap from the bed to join her, and she's pulling towels from the cabinet. I gently close the cabinet and take her hand into mine, wrapping her into my embrace. She turns to hand me a bottle of cherry blossom bubble bath, feeling for my face when I take the bottle from her hands. She kisses me before I pull away to start the bath. Once the bath is drawn, I wrap one arm around her back, just below her shoulder blades, and the other hand under her knees. She squeals and laughs, wrapping her arms around me in surprise.  
"My lady in shining armor, sweeping me off my feet," she giggles out as I brace our weight and guide her down into the tub.  
"Of course, my lady, the only way it should be," I say as I bracket her hips with my legs and pull on her shoulders to lean into my chest. My arms wrap around her torso, hands clasped against her abs. She leans her head back against my shoulder, and I hum as she kisses my neck. I bring up my right hand to trickle water down her bare shoulder, relishing in the way her skin looks under the soft glow of the dimmed lights. The tops of her breasts and knees are visible through the bubbles, and the hairs that have fallen loose from her messy bun are tickling my cheek.  
Her hands bring me out of my thoughts as they find mine. Her fingers trail down the length of them as she holds them out before bringing one to her lips. She releases her hold on the right one, and I graze my fingertips against the side of her breast and down to her ribs. Her skin is soaked under my touch, but I can still feel the way her muscles twitch.  
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she whispers almost silently, but I hear her.  
"I love you to the moon and back," I nuzzle my nose into her cheek and tighten my grip on her torso, holding her firmly against my front.  
In the dimmed lights of our bathroom, and through the scent of cherry blossom, I realize I'm never more satisfied than when I am with her. While I've never been more sexually satisfied in my life, I've also never been more emotionally satisfied. I can feel her chest expand and contract with every breath she takes, and I'm sated.


	6. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear is abstract. There's never one distinct reaction to fright. Some people run. Some people succumb to fight or flight. Some people shake. Some people collapse. The funny thing is that no one ever knows.

Fear is abstract. There's never one distinct reaction to fright. Some people run. Some people succumb to fight or flight. Some people shake. Some people collapse. The funny thing is that no one ever knows. The news comes in a flash, and it's too much for the brain to process; or, it's not actually fear itself, but anger. Fear is unpredictable. It's impossible to measure someone's reaction. In a way, it's a defense mechanism to extreme situations. No one knows which defense mechanism they turn to until their heart is already in their throat.  
"You're gonna be okay, baby. We're right here," I choke out as I dig for her epinephrine. Her head is resting in Quinn's lap as she passes a straw through her mouth and into her throat, preventing it from constricting completely. My hands shake as I bring the injector to the outside of her thigh, and I can hear Quinn muttering encouragement to breathe.  
I'm scared because she's my light. I'm scared for Quinn because she's her best friend. I'm scared for Rachel because she's just as much a part of our family, and I can hear her trying not to cry as she relays information to the EMT's on dispatch.  
I'm not even sure what happened. I just heard her blood curdling screams as she tried to get away from the swarm. Before I could run fast enough, Quinn picked her up as Rachel swatted them away long enough for Quinn to get Santana to safety.  
I can hear the sirens blare nearer and nearer, and an army of uniformed men and women approach with a stretcher and cardiac defibrillator. The woman kneels next to me, and, with all the softness in her voice, speaks to me, "I know it's difficult to speak right now, but she's in the best hands. Can you tell us exactly what happened so we can relay it to the team of nurses that are waiting for us?"  
Another EMT is slowly removing the straw from her airway, his ear close to her chest. He trades the straw for a breathing tube, and I can't concentrate on the questions because she's panicking, looking for me.  
"A boy kicked his ball into a wasp's nest. By the time we could yell for her to move they had already swarmed," Rachel jumped in as I crawled on my knees and held San's hand, "I tried to get her out of the swarm," she can barely get her words out as she chokes down a sob.  
"She'll be okay. Right now, we're supplying her with the oxygen she may have been deprived of between the time she was attacked and when the straw was inserted. The breathing tube will ensure that her airway stays open. I'm impressed, by the way," the EMT says, trying to calm the situation, "we can assess the situation further once we get her into the ambulance, and attach the monitors."  
"We're gonna meet you at the hospital. Rach is gonna drive my car, and I'll drive yours, okay?" Quinn says as she leans down into a hug.  
"Yeah, we'll see you there," I'm distracted by the EMT's lifting her onto the stretcher.  
I feel calmer now that they're monitoring her breathing and heartbeat, and that we're not outside anymore.  
"I love you, baby," I whisper against her forehead, and I can feel her fist tighten around my t-shirt.  
When we arrive, the nurses are waiting. They say she's stable enough not to go to intensive care. As much as I hate not being the one to do it, I let the nurses lift her from the stretcher and onto the regular hospital bed. I held her hand as they connected her IV's and removed the breathing tube, replacing it with an oxygen mask. The atmosphere calms down as we're left alone.  
My heart rate slows and I exhale, knowing she's going to be okay. I lean down to kiss her forehead, and to tell her I'll be right back. I close the bathroom door behind me and reach the toilet just in time to empty my stomach's contents.  
I saw within an inch of death today, and I wish that on no one.  
I rinse my mouth before making my way back to her. She's moved close to the edge of the bed, making room for me to lie down. She rests her head against my breast as she curls against me. My eyes fill with tears because the weight of her head feels like home. I raise one hand to stroke her cheek, careful not to bump her mask. I trail my fingers up and down the arm that's curled next to her head.  
"Go to sleep, baby. I'll be here when you wake up," I say as I hear Quinn and Rachel softly closing the door behind them.  
Once San's fallen asleep, I get up and embrace Rachel in a hug. I could see it in her eyes that she felt she didn't do enough. What she did means everything.  
"We brought you some pajamas and toiletries," she whispers softly and I squeeze her shoulders before releasing our hug.  
"Thank you," I glance between both of them, meaning it as more than a thank you for the packed bag.  
"We were thinking of staying in town a little longer, maybe stay with San while you're at work?" Quinn asks quietly and I smile at the thought of them spending time together.  
"That sounds great. I'm sure she'd really like that," I whisper through a genuine smile, "she misses y'all."  
"I can't wait. We aren't the four amigas for nothing, right?" Rachel says with an amount of excitement only she can possess. I know San will be in good hands until I get home from work.  
"B?" I hear San say as she pulls the mask from her face.  
"Yeah, baby?"  
"I need to use the restroom," she whispers shyly.  
"Okay, I have some sweats you can change into if you want. You're kind of mooning our company, S." I say, hoping for a laugh. I help her stand, moving the IV pole out of the way.  
"What?! Why didn't you say anything?" I laugh as she reaches behind herself to close the gown. Quinn and Rachel are stifling laughter, too.  
"Don't worry, S. At least your butt's cute," Quinn laughs out, and Santana gasps as I lead her into the bathroom.  
Once she's finished, I help her into a pair of sweats, her hands using my shoulders for balance. Rubbing her arms as I stand, I bring her into my chest and hold her tightly.  
"I'm okay, Britt. I'm gonna be okay, please don't cry," she whispers as her hands feel for my face. I try not to shake as I hold her wrist, turning my face to kiss her palm.  
"You're okay," I echo, reassuring myself that she's really here, that I'm really holding her.  
I remind myself that every ounce of happiness, every ounce of healthiness, can disappear so fucking quickly. And then, it's just gone. You can't get it back. But, I got it back. My world could have shattered, but I got it back.


	7. Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gentle rocking of the chair causes her arms to shift ever so slightly against my chest.

"Okay, baby, we're home," I whisper as I pull into the garage and shift the car into park. Her temple rests on the glass as she caresses my free hand with her thumb. She hasn't let go since we got into the car twenty minutes ago.  
"Are Q and Rach here?"  
"Mhmm, they're making dinner. If we're lucky, they haven't burned down the kitchen," she giggles that irresistible laugh as I help her out of the seat. She's still worn out, no matter how much she tries to deny it.  
"Q's gotten a lot better at cooking…"  
"You weren't the one who had to put out that fire at my parent's house," I think back to our high school days.  
"That was a great night," San says, deep in thought.  
"It was, baby. Alright, up you go," I brace my feet on the concrete as I move her legs over the edge of the car door, pulling her towards me.  
I guide her to the door leading inside; I slip my arm around the corner and click the garage door button before following her into the house. When I see her fingers tracing the wall leading to the kitchen, I know she wants to help. But, if it's up to me, that pretty little butt will be resting on the couch for the night.  
"Uh uh, you're going to rest in the living room, and I'm going to serve you, princess," I slip my arms around her waist and walk her away from the kitchen.  
"But, I wanna help," she whines, and even though I can't see the pout, I can hear it. I almost surrender to it. Almost.  
"Please rest, San, for me?" It comes out a little too desperate and worrisome than I'd like, but she sighs out in agreement.  
"Only if I get to wear your sweater and curl up in your blanket," she bargains. I can't deny that, especially when she wears my clothes.  
"You drive a hard bargain, S," I joke, following her into the bedroom. I can't help the smile that creeps up my face as I watch her smell my sweater when she pulls it out of the dresser drawer, her nose nuzzles into the material, before she pulls it over her head. "Alright, let's go get you horizontal."  
"Wanky," she smirks.  
"Uh uh, horn dog. You're laying down, doctor's orders."  
"Don't make me break up the love fest, I don't wanna see that," Quinn yells light-heartedly from the kitchen.  
"Not like you haven't seen it before."  
"It's not every day that you walk in on your best friends going at it on the kitchen counter, I had to bleach my eyes," Rachel pipes up through a smile.  
"S'not my fault Britt picked that day to feel exhibitionistic," San says quietly as she blushed.  
The blush my girl lures out of me is unreal.  
"Is this 'embarrass B day', or?" My pout leaves my face as her lips find my cheek.  
"I'm sorry, baby, come help me get comfortable."  
I lower myself into the leather rocking chair, holding out the blanket so she can straddle my lap. Her legs find a comfortable position against my hips as her arms lay between our breasts. I slip my hands beneath the sweatshirt to rest them on her lower back. My fingers caress the skin directly underneath the elastic of her pants. Her fingers fiddle with my necklace because they never stay still.  
"What's goin' on in your head, baby?" I brush the fingertip of my pointer finger down the length of her nose, kissing it when I get to the tip.  
"I thought I'd never get to feel you again," she says so quietly I almost miss it. I can tell she's craving more touch than words, so I place her hands on either side of my face and relish in the feeling of her fingertips on my eyelids. I kiss her palm as her thumb caresses just under my eye.  
"Not if I have anything to do with it," I can feel the tears sting my eyes, but her fingers catch them before they get the chance to dampen my shirt.  
"I'm sorry for scaring you," she whispers shamefully.  
"You just owe me lots of kisses. I could also go for some naked cuddles," she giggles at that. Her stray hairs tickle my face as she nods. I kiss her hairline as Quinn and Rachel walk in with our dinner. I smile and pretend I don't see the hickey appearing on Rachel's neck, or that I don't see Quinn's shirt off by a few buttons. I help San off of my lap so she can eat.  
"Hey, Q?"  
"Yeah, S?"  
"Britt has makeup in the bathroom if Rach needs it."  
Quinn's eyes dart to me and I smirk, shrugging my shoulders.  
"Come on, it's grub time," I chuckle out as I help San with her clock positions. She's sitting cross legged at the coffee table, mentally noting each item. It feels good to have my baby home where she's safe.  
"S'good," she hums in approval over her bowl of spaghetti.  
"She didn't even start a fire," Rachel cackles out as she moves to sit on the couch behind Santana, her hand resting gently on her shoulder as she gets settled.  
"One fire, I started one fire, and Marisol put the fear of God into me. I think I've proven myself with dinner tonight, though," Quinn quips as she sticks her tongue out at Rachel.  
"Mom lights fires under peoples' asses, it's what she lives for," we all murmur in agreement.  
"Remember that time she caught me climbing into your bedroom window, baby?"  
"You were so scared /I/ could see you go pale," San snorts as she reminisces. I smile at the memories of me trailing the terrace to her bedroom window.  
"Once I got over the fear, it was kind of romantic, huh?"  
"That's the night you typed 'I love you' in braille, of course it was romantic," I can hear the smile in her voice.  
"Who knew B was the mushy, knight in shining armor type?" Quinn smirks jokingly. Rachel softly slaps her shoulder with the back of her hand, and Quinn gently raises it to her lips for a kiss.  
Santana gets up to bring her dishes to the kitchen, so I take the opportunity to show Quinn and Rachel the princess style engagement I've been hiding in the living room plant for three months. I hear her make her way back into the room, so I gently close the black box and store it away. The smiles on our best friend's faces have never been more cheerful, even as tears brim in their eyes. San guides herself back over to the chair and into my lap. I wrap the blanket around us as the room fills with light from the DVD we just inserted. The gentle rocking of the chair causes her arms to shift ever so slightly against my chest.  
I hum "My Only Sunshine" into her temple, and I'm reminded, in the glow of the television and the warmth of our company, that she's my light that never ceases to shine.


	8. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her lips find my cheek, and our faces are close enough so that our tears mix.  
> In this moment, I thank the stars for cotton candy and Ferris wheels and San; I can already picture the rest of our lives.

"Where are we going, baby?"  
"I can't ruin the surprise, but you'll love it, San." I can't help but smile at the excitement in her voice, and even though she knows I won't tell her, she's content not knowing.  
"I love anything that has to do with you," she whispers quietly, pulling herself closer to me as we make our way through the crowded city.  
"You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, don't you, baby?" Her words send butterflies to my stomach, and she doesn't waste a second pointing out my blush.  
"That blush could be seen a mile away, B," she giggles out. Oh, how I love that laugh.  
"Yeah, yeah. It's not every day that a gorgeous woman makes me blush. Oh, wait, you do," I whisper the last part into her ear, caressing the hand I'm holding. She smiles shyly, pressing her face into my jacket covered arm.  
"I'm good, huh?" Now she's cocky and cocky Santana is brilliant. I still can't catch my breath around her.  
"You have no idea. Okay, we're almost there, baby." The entrance to the fair is crowded, and she tightens her grip on my hand as she hears the hustle.  
I see her dimples appear as she smiles in recognition, "are we at the fair?"  
"How do you do that?"  
"Remember? I'm good." The amount of cockiness and excitement in her voice should be illegal.  
"What's up first, baby?"  
"Really unhealthy fair food?"  
"That sounds delicious. Let me guess: a cheeseburger, mustard, mayo, lettuce, tomato, french fries, but not just any french fries, extra crunchy."  
"You remember my favorite fast food order?" She asks incredulously.  
"I've loved you for almost five years, of course."  
"You're smile is beautiful."  
"You can tell when I'm smiling?"  
"I hear it in your voice," she smirks as she takes her bag of food into her free hand.  
"Let's find a spot and eat, goofy."  
The lines and crowds are intense, and even though I can tell she's nervous, she still owns her walk. It's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I slip my hand into my pocket, and my fingers find the little black box I've been saving since I fell in love with it at the jeweler. I take my hand out to grab my food, but I'm broken out of my thoughts by Santana's incessant apologizing, and my brow furrows.  
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" There's a broken soda cup on the ground and the girl standing in front of Santana is covered in coke. "I'm so sorry!"  
"Yeah, well, you should be, freak." My fists clench and it takes all willpower not to resort to my old violent days.  
"Hey! Don't speak to her that way. She apologized, so just walk away."  
"Is it fun playing guardian angel to a cripple?"  
"B, don't. It's not worth it. Can we please eat," I hear San whisper as she grabs my arm to pull me back.  
"You're worth everything."  
"Relax, Britt-Britt." She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head against my chest bone.  
"Okay, the sooner we eat the sooner we get to go on rides."  
"There's the smile I love so much."  
She tried to hide her insecurities during dinner, but I could tell she was thinking about that girl's insults. It breaks my heart to know that she still feels that way about herself.  
"How about cotton candy and a ride on the Ferris wheel? I wanna see those beautiful dimples." She ducks her head shyly and we start walking to the cotton candy booth.  
"Which color would you pretty ladies like tonight?"  
There's an old man working the booth, and he smiles in recognition as he looks at our intertwined hands. His voice is deep and elderly, but I can tell he's ahead of his discriminatory generation. People can surprise you.  
San turns toward me in confusion when he asks which color she'd like. Sometimes, she asks me questions about vision, things that she doesn't quite grasp. She knows what colors are, but it's hard for her to understand that certain things have specific colors. So, really late at night, when we're curled up in our comforter, I'll explain my eye sight. I'll tell her that I use my eyes the way she uses her hearing. She loves these talks, because they make her feel loved.  
"Purple, please," the old man smiles as I take the cone and pay, "here you go, baby."  
She hums as she tears the first piece from the top. I smile as I see the sugar coat her lips. I can't wait to kiss it off.  
The sun is going down, and the stars are coming out. There's a slight breeze swaying her hair, and a piece of it sticks to my nose as I help her board the Ferris wheel. My heart speeds up as I realize how soon my life with San is about to change. Once we're seated comfortably, I brush my thumb against her jaw and gently direct her face toward mine. My kiss takes her off guard, but it doesn't take her long to kiss me back. My palms get sweaty the closer our seat gets to the top. When the Ferris wheel halts, she jumps and moves closer to my side.  
"What's going on, B. Why did we stop?" I glance to the bottom, and the engineer gives me a thumbs up. It's now or never.  
"I never knew I was capable of loving someone as much as I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way you walk, and the way your fingers trace your surroundings. I love the way your ears perk up to certain noises, and how you know exactly where they're coming from. You sing in the shower when you think I'm not listening. I walked in on you organizing the pencil drawer next to the fridge the other morning, and I pretended not to hear you curse about things not being in the proper place. You sway your hips when you fold my laundry, and you sneak in sniffs because you love the way it smells. The amount of words you can type in a minute turns me on to no end," I stop my speech when I hear her sniffle and laugh, "I could go on and on, but there aren't enough words to explain my love for you. I get to wake up to the love of my life, and if you'll put up with me forever, I'd really like to be able to wake up to you as my wife," her tears are overflowing, and locks of hair are moving with each nod of her head. "Will you marry me, San?"  
"Y-yes," she barely chokes out as her hands find my face. I break down as I take out the box and guide it into her left hand. We open it together, and I glide it onto her ring finger. She lets out a happy sob as she feels me lift her hand to my lips. The Ferris wheel starts as her left hand cradles the back of my head. Her lips find my cheek, and our faces are close enough so that our tears mix.  
In this moment, I thank the stars for cotton candy and Ferris wheels and San; I can already picture the rest of our lives.


	9. Shake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M  
> When she relaxes against my chest, and her breathing evens out, I finally realize that my hands are shaking.

"I can't unlock the door if you keep kissing my neck like that, baby."

"I can't help it, you're my fiancée."

At this, she abandons the keys in the lock and turns around to wrap her arms around my neck. Her lips find mine quicker than they ever have before, but I greet her tongue with mine and cradle her face with my hands.

"I love you so much," she says with enough passion to send shivers through my soul. Her forehead comes to rest against mine, and I take advantage of the gentle moment.

"I love you so much, my beautiful fiancée." 

Her grip on my neck tightens, "take me inside, Britt."

It takes everything in my power not to just forget that we're on our porch, and I can't take her right then and there. Her voice is laced with passion, and it makes me work the lock as fast as I can without dropping the damn keys. When I finally get us inside, I pull her closer to me. Her fingers tighten around my collar, and her lips latch onto the skin just below my jaw. I let my hands journey down to her thighs to lift her into my arms. I walk her gently into the door, and she gasps as I use my weight to keep her pressed against the wood.

"What do you want, San? Tell me what you want, baby," her head falls back, and she moans as I kiss a path from her ear to the base of her throat. Her hands leave my shoulders, and reach down to pull at the hem of her shirt. Her abs twitch with the movement of her arms as she reveals her lace, front-clasp. My mouth waters as I wait for her answer.

"Off, I want your shift off," and she doesn't wait for me to fulfill her wish. Her fingertips are already trailing the front of my shirt, searching for the hem. I shift my weight to my thighs, pressing my hips into hers to keep us balanced against the door. I make quick work of my shirt, throwing it somewhere in the living room. My hands are too busy caressing her sides to care where they threw the shirt. As much as I like having Santana pressed against me, biting that perfect bottom lip, I can't feel her body the way I want to with her pressed against the door.

"Hold on, baby," with a firm grip on the backs of her thighs, I carry her to our bedroom. By the time she's on our bed, her jeans are already unbuttoned and rolling down her hips. It takes me a few seconds to stop staring at her bare skin, and actually help pull them the rest of the way down her legs. 

I swiftly strip off my jeans and join her on the bed. She's starting to reach for me, so I crawl between her legs, using my knees to gently spread them. I have to swallow a moan because the sight of my fiancée underneath me, legs spread, chest panting, is enough to make me come undone.

"Please touch me, B," her voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I can feel her blunt nails pressing into my lower back. Her hips are canting, looking for friction, and I can't deny her anymore.

"How, baby? Tell me what to do," I brace myself on either side of her head, taking her lips into a hungry kiss.

"I want to ride you until I can't take it anymore," her lips leave a hot trail along my jawline, and I can't hold back my moan this time.

"I'm gonna get the strap on, I'll be right back," I place a kiss on her forehead, and make my way to the bathroom. I strip out of my underwear so that I can slip into the harness. Once I fasten the straps, I remember to undo my bra. Sometimes, I leave it on, but she enjoys being able to feel all of my skin. I grab both of our attachments from the counter before going back to the bedroom. 

My breath hitches when I see San, because she's unclasped her bra and slipped out of her panties. She's so beautiful, and I can't believe my heart still races this fast. 

"C'mere, baby," she must have picked up on my breathing, because she's summoning me towards her. Her legs are slowly opening and closing, and her pointer finger is tracing her bottom lip. Her other hand is tangled in her hair, and her grin is wicked. Oh, she doesn't know what she does to me.

"Which one do you want?" She sits up at the sound of my voice, reaching for both attachments. When we first started using a strap on, we bought a small attachment so that she San could get used to the shape. But, as we ventured out and discovered each other sexually, we bought a larger attachment. And, from the smirk on her face, she wants the larger one tonight. When I sit on the bed, she shifts herself onto her hands and knees, using her hands to find my thighs. Her fingers tickle the inside of my thighs until she finds the harness, and I help her fasten the attachment. 

When she pulls herself up on her knees and moves to straddle my legs, my mouth waters and I can't believe how lucky I am to have someone this beautiful in my arms. She places her forearms on my shoulders, and grinds her hips into the dildo between us.

"Get me ready, baby," her voice is husky and I grip her hips harder at the sound. I lean my head down to capture her nipple with my mouth, and my hand cups her mound. I use a single finger to slide through her folds, and she jumps at the sudden contact. She tangles her hands in my hair, pressing her chest into my face. Her hips are still circling, so I gently slide one finger to her opening. 

"You're so wet, S. Did I make you this wet?" I let go of her nipple just long enough to speak, but I turn to her other breast as she moans out a "yes."

"Oh, baby, stop teasing." I smile and enter her with two fingers. It doesn't take long to develop a rhythm, and she's riding my fingers. But, I don't want her to come yet. When I slowly remove my fingers, she whines in disapproval.

"Get on your knees, baby. You're so wet that we don't need any lube." She blushes, but shifts up so that I can guide her onto my shaft. Her grip on my hair gets harder with every inch, and her head lulls back. It doesn't take long for her to find her pace. 

Despite the wet, dirty sounds her wetness is making against the phallus, she looks so eloquent in my lap. Her hips move in small, strategic motions. I can't help but shift my weight to my thighs to meet her thrust for thrust.

"Fuck, baby," her breath hitches in her throat as my hands latch onto her butt, guiding her hips down as I move up. I lean forward to kiss the sweat that's rolling down the valley of her breasts.

"You're so beautiful, San," I feel her kiss my hairline because words aren't easy for her right now. 

Her hips pick up speed, and her thighs are shaking. She supports her weight on my shoulders as she lifts herself higher and higher. When I think the dildo's about to come out completely, she drops her hips until they meet mine. She isn't bothering to stifle her moans, and they're glorious. I dare to look down, and her wetness is dripping onto my thighs. 

All I can do is wrap one arm around her shoulders, one arm around her waist, and meet her every thrust. She's frantic now, having lost any kind of rhythm. Sweat is dripping down her jawline, and I catch it with my tongue before it can reach her throat. Her moans are heavy, and her fingers are clutching my neck for dear life. I bring my arm from her waist so that I can rub her clit. She's so wet that my fingers slip, and that thought makes it hard not to come before her. I start fast, tight circles as I bring my lips to her nipple. She takes a shuddering breath, and I know she's close.

"Come for me, baby," I can feel her clit throbbing under my fingers, and I know exactly what to do to bring her to the edge. When she thrusts down, I bite her nipple and pinch her clit lightly.

"Oh, god, Brit..." She nearly screams as her thighs tense.

"I'm here, baby, that's it," she clamps down so hard that I can barely thrust, but the pressure causes the insert to rub just the right way, and I bite down on her shoulder to muffle my scream. 

Her back arches so quickly that I tighten my grip on her back to keep her in my lap. When, her muscles finally relax, I shift her onto her back and pull out. Her face is buried in my neck, and body is still shaking from the aftershocks. I gently massage her side with the hand that's not supporting her back, and she giggles. I could live forever on that sound, especially when it's in orgasmic bliss.

"I just made love to my fiancée," she whispers as she nuzzles her nose against my jaw.

"My heart beats so fast when you call me that," I say, and she lifts her head to kiss me. She cradles my head between her hands, and wraps her legs tighter around my waist. 

When she relaxes against my chest, and her breathing evens out, I finally realize that my hands are shaking; and I know that San is the only person that's ever made me shake.


	10. Shiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had never been more proud than in that moment that Santana found courage within herself to share her voice with our world.

My fingers trailed the length of her side, down the soft skin of the thigh propped up at an angle between us, and settled in the hand that twitched slightly as she splayed out.   
“That tickles,” she whispered through a sleepy smile.  
“You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t resist.”  
“Mm, not complaining at all.”  
I scooted closer, lifting her thigh to rest against mine as I snuggled into her side. Her arm wrapped around my waist as she held me tightly.  
“What do you wanna do today, fiancée?  
Her dimples deepened as she thought.  
“Everybody’s getting together for lunch and a day of games. What do you say we see our friends?” Her ring glittered in the light as she caressed my fingers.  
“Of course,” I whispered, resting my ear against her heart as she rolled to her back and brought a hand to tangle in my hair.  
“We should get dressed,” she chuckled as I shook my head and buried it further against her warm chest. She patted my butt as she prodded me out of bed, “c’mon, B.”  
~  
I marveled in the softness of her hair as I bobby-pinned her bangs to the side. I caught the shiver her body released as she enjoyed the feeling of my fingers against her scalp.  
I brought my hands to rest against her cheeks, stealing a few kisses. I could feel her smile against my lips.  
“Can I ask you a question?” She busied her hands in the lapels of my jacket.  
“Always,” I fixed the collar of her flowery blouse.  
“What do you think of me performing at an open mic night?”  
“Yeah? I’ll be front row, throwing flowers to the stage. San, I’m so excited,” I squeaked as I kissed her forehead.  
“Tonight?” San barely let out the question.  
I gasped as San ducked her head shyly.  
I lifted her chin up to reassure her, “We’ll all be right there with you.”  
~  
We barely got through the door before Mercedes and Kurt were squealing over Santana’s ring.  
“How did it happen?” Kurt asked, holding both Santana’s hands as he led her to the kitchen. Santana snorted at his eagerness.  
Mercedes brought me in for a hug, wanting to know everything. A soft voice cut through the room and everyone turned to listen.  
“We need to head out before we’re late for our reservation,” Quinn smiled as everyone filed for the door.  
~  
“Here’s to Brittany and Santana on their engagement,” Rachel raised her glass to clink.  
I looked around the table to see our friends wiping tears, and I knew in that moment that this was the life I was destined to have and these were the people who were destined to be in it.  
“Don’t make me cry,” I choked out as San rubbed my thigh under the table.  
Santana cleared her throat as she spoke up, “So, I’ve never been one for the spotlight. I’m gonna shift it to Quinn and Rachel.”  
Quinn rolled her eyes good-naturedly.  
“I’m one of Ohio’s newest teachers. I got the elementary position I interviewed for.” She said shyly as Rachel caressed and kissed her cheek.  
Everyone cheered as Quinn nudged Rachel’s shoulder.  
“I, uh, got approved to start a singing and youth support program for needy kids.”  
We gasped as Rachel smiled brightly.  
“This all deserves celebration, so I propose, after game night, that we go out and have fun.” I grip San’s hand for support.  
~  
“Movie/Musical Trivia. The clip plays once and you have ten seconds to answer. Let’s split up evenly,” Kurt said brightly as he popped the game in the DVD player.  
The living room soon filled with excited yells and claps. And I’d be lying if I said Santana identifying every single sound clip correctly within five seconds didn’t turn me the hell on.  
“Okay, I have a serious question, San,” Puck spoke up.  
“Go for it,” San smiled.  
“Does blindness affect your hearing and memory? Because you’re killing this game right now,” Puck smiled and shook his head.  
“It makes it easier for me to separate sound from the environment, and I do remember sounds through associating them with experience and emotions,” she answered shyly.  
“Well, it’s amazing,” Puck rubbed her shoulder.  
“Aw, Puck does have a soft side,” Artie jabbed.  
I took a moment to whisper in San’s ear, “Are you ready to head out? We need to go set up your music.” She leaned into my lips as I laid a kiss to her ear.  
“Mhmm.”  
“San and I are gonna run a quick errand before we go to the bar, so we’ll see y’all there soon.”  
~  
We arrived at the bar to set up the music and see the stage. Santana’s hands trembled as she handed her CD to the manager.  
“You okay?” I ran my hands up and down her arms to relax her shaking.  
Her brow furrowed, but she nodded her head to reassure me that this is what she wanted.  
“Will you walk me out on stage?”  
“Of course.”  
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”  
“You’re an amazing singer. You’re amazing, baby.” I’ll never be able to get enough of her voice. She was about to share the same voice that sang me to sleep multiple nights a week, the same voice that comforted me, the same, beautiful voice that never ceased to ground me.  
She leaned her head against my chest so that my chin rested on top.  
“They’re all sitting at our table,” I sighed and reached for her hand.  
“Let’s do this.”  
The manager stepped on stage to introduce open mic night.  
“Hi, everybody! So, tonight is open mic night, and we have a special treat for. I’d like to welcome to the stage Ohio’s very own Santana,” the manager glanced back to us with a very bright smile.  
Santana squeezed my hand as we made our way to her spot on the stage. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple before handing her the microphone, and leaving the stage to join our friends.  
“What’s going on?” Quinn whispered with bright eyes. I just smiled.  
I could see the tremble in her left hand holding the microphone, but she was smiling dimple-deep.  
The music started as her voice broke through her nerves.  
I swiped a tear from my cheek as goosebumps traveled down my arms. I looked back to see our friends looking back and forth from Santana to one another.   
Her voice carried even without the help of the microphone, and everyone’s jaws dropped. This was her moment.  
She got her head in the clouds  
And she’s not backin’ down  
This girl is on fire  
I could hear Rachel gasp as Santana carried the note. Our friends were sniffling and smiling as Santana wowed them.  
I had never been more proud than in that moment that Santana found courage within herself to share her voice with our world. And, definitely not for the first time, my whole world gave me shivers.


	11. Serene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I get to marry you.

"They're not going to tell us anything different than they've been telling us my whole life." I can sense her frustration radiating from her being. We never bring her Abuela to doctor appointments, but here we are, stuck in a less than ideal, smelly waiting room with San's grandmother. It's taking longer to accept that her granddaughter is blind than it did to accept that she's with me.  
"You don't know that, Santanita. They have surgeries now. They can fix your eyes." Santana sighs and I can hear the tears forming in her throat.  
"San, if there were suddenly some magical cure that could give you eyesight, would you want that?" Santana holds my hand tighter as she runs her thumb across my knuckles, stopping to feel my ring.  
"I don't know what sight is. I don't know what it means to see. I don't even comprehend colors. Being blind is the only way I have ever lived. I don't need or want to see, Britt."  
"Santanita, why are you so stubborn?" Abuela starts up, but I'm not going to let her walk all over my fiancée. I don't care if she's an elder.  
"Abuela, if you aren't going to accept that Santana doesn't want to look into any research, please leave. We're here to check on the health of her eyes, not try to fix her." Abuela settles into her chair with a grunt.  
I smile as I feel San raise my hand to her lips. She has this incredible ability to make me feel so serene and content inside.  
"Santana Lopez?"  
"I'm Santana," San says as she stands and extends her cane.  
"Hi, Santana. I'm Dr. Abbott. I specialize in osteopathic medicine. I received your file from Doctor Cooke, it's very nice to meet you."  
"It's nice to meet you, I was worried about having a new doctor," San reaches her hand out to shake and the doctor takes her hand between her own.  
"This is my fiancee, Brittany. Is it okay if she's here for my appointment?"  
"Of course, I'll lead you to the room and we can discuss everything in more depth," Dr. Abbott smiles at me as she guides us to the room.  
"Have you ever worked with anyone with San's specific diagnosis?"  
"I have worked with a lot of people with De Morsier's Syndrome, but Santana is my first with total blindness. Is that right, Santana? That you don't have any light perception?" I like how Dr. Abbott consults with San instead of me. It breaks my heart when people don't take the time to get to know her.  
"I can't differentiate between any form of light, that's right," San tenses but tries to hide it.  
"Do you have a question, San?" I squeeze her thigh to encourage her.  
"You can ask me anything, and don't hesitate to ask me to repeat if needed," Dr. Abbott reassured.  
Santana ran her knuckles against her lips, deep in thought, "are there any serious health conditions linked to my syndrome?" I try not to give away that this question scares me.  
Dr. Abbott smiles, "there is the concern of pituitary gland dysfunction and cognitive and intellectual deficits. I don't think you have any need to worry about cognition issues." Santana laughs and relaxes, which relaxes me.  
"What about the pituitary concerns?" I worry that this answer won't be as pretty.  
"Only one-third of babies diagnosed with Septo-Optic Dysplasia , or De Morsier Syndrome, present all three optic nerve hypoplasia, midline brain abnormalities, and pituitary issues. Santana, you don't present all three. Your small stature could relate, but that could also be genetics. We need to monitor your sugar levels, but that is completely precautionary. You are completely healthy."  
"Now we have something to blame my height on," Santana poked at my side as a snorted out a laugh.  
"I have a question, and San and I have already discussed this in depth, but I'm curious," I start and Dr. Abbott smiles.  
"You can ask anything and I will share my opinions as professionally and ethically as possible."  
"Is there a way to repair the optic nerves or transplant them in order to restore sight?"  
"Right now, there is no known cure for this type of optic nerve syndrome. There is no such thing as a whole-eye transplant, because you can't transplant an optic nerve; that would be impossible. You would need both the eyes and the nerve to successfully complete a whole-eye transplant. But an optic nerve cannot be surgically connected to the brain. Santana, I know that was a lot to process. Are you and Brittany doing okay with all this information?" I smile at this question.  
I tried to explain exactly what you explained to my Abuela," Santana sighs, "I'm happy with my life and my world, but I wish she would understand."  
Dr. Abbott nods in understanding, "it's hard for older generations to accept, but you're doing wonderful and your eyes are completely healthy other than your optic nerves work for shit." Santana and I really like this doctor.  
"Can you explain my eye shaking, nystagmus?"  
"Of course I can! Nystagmus isn't actually a diagnosis itself. It's a symptom of the optic nerve issues. The part of your brain that should be controlling steady, normal eye movement is not."  
"Britt has always worried about whether my eyes cause me pain. I always tell her I'm not hurting." I shrug shyly and Dr. Abbott looks at Santana.  
"You've got yourself a keeper, Santana," she says and I blush.  
After the appointment, we drop Abuela off at her house. We both sigh in relief when she gets inside. We both love Abuela, but there comes a time... My train of thought leaves the station as I feel Santana's lips on my cheek.  
"Thank you for today, Britt," her voice is raspy and soft and I want so badly to kiss her with everything in me. But, we're parked in her Abuela's driveway and there's a big difference between 'her Abuela accepts us' and 'let's make out in the middle of her driveway'.  
"You're killing me with that hand on my thigh, San." She squeezes my leg, knowing exactly what she's doing.  
"Well, we can't have you dying on me, can we?" There's that rasp.  
"What's gotten into you, baby? We just came from a smelly doctor's office."  
"I don't know what I did to deserve you, Britt. It's not like a 'horny-turned on. It's an I love you so much-turned on."  
I feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes, "I can't believe I get to marry you."


	12. Shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M  
> I realize her mind is my reason, her heart is my passion, and her arms are my shelter.

It’s true when they say life works in mysterious ways. You go through the motions of your life and don’t really expect anything to brighten the monotony. Popularity digs its talons into people; it finds a way to seep into the mind and heart, growing and clinging on the synapses like a tumor. So, you find yourself in the depths of its grasp, going through the motions. I didn’t expect to wake up that morning feeling the very thought of her seeping into those very neurons, into the monotony of my life.  
“Here’s your book,” I attempted gently, leaning over to gather all her scattered papers. “Are you okay?”  
She was shaking so vigorously, still pressed to my chest as if attempting to tether the strings of our life-sources. I felt my own tears falling as she sobbed in response, her left hand reaching for her book. Its pages wrinkled under the force with which she shoved it into her own chest.  
“Do you see my backpack?” She whispers, wincing at how roughly the question came out. I didn’t know at that time that this trait would make me fall head over heels for this girl. She was worried I would be offended by her gruffness, but it only attracted me.  
“It’s right here,” I whispered as I held it close to her left hand. “Would you like me to help you put everything in?”  
She hesitates, maybe in an attempt not to come off rude, “I-it all has to go in order, I don’t even know where everything is. She shifts onto her knees, hands sweeping as she looks for her materials.  
I didn’t know what else to do to ease the anxiety she must be feeling, so I gently pulled her against my chest again. She calmed, listening as I began to speak. “You can trust me, okay? I’m going to hand you everything one by one. I won’t leave unless you ask me to.”  
“Okay,” she whispered as her left hand felt the raised bumps of the first book.  
“My name is Brittany. Yours is Santana, right?” I smile as she nods softly, her fingertips working over the next book I hand her.  
“Yeah, I’m new here. We just moved. We needed to be closer to my Abuela,” she says quietly.  
“This wasn’t a very good welcome to our school,” I frowned.  
“I’m kind of used to it. I kind of stick out like a sore thumb,” she jokes but her laugh sort of sticks in her throat like it hurts.  
“It is kind of hard not to notice you.” Did I just really try to flirt aloud? Kill me now. I sigh in relief as she blushes, and I’m about to apologize as she clears her throat.  
“Thank you,” my heart flutters as she grins and tucks a piece of dark hair behind a beautifully tiny ear. Neither of us realized her bag was packed as we sat in front of each other, blushing. My eyes shifted to her cane that was still in pieces.  
“Here’s your cane. I hope they didn’t break it,” it looked to be in pieces to me, but Santana expertly ran her hands along the pieces, clicking them back together.  
“They would have to try a lot harder to break this thing. It should be classified as a weapon,” she grins and I laugh.  
“Would it be rude if I asked you a question?”  
“I like questions,” she pats my hand reassuringly and I can only think about how soft her skin is. I snap myself out of it quickly.   
“Have you always been blind?”  
“I was born blind, yeah.”  
“Can I ask you another question.”  
“You can ask anything.”  
“Would you like to hang out this weekend?”  
“I would love to.”  
She was so nervous that day I came over for the first time. I stifle my giggles that surface at the memory as best I can, trying not to wake her. She looks too beautiful. I just can’t help but smile because she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. I laugh again at that because we’re definitely not girls anymore. I can’t complain about that, though; not when the sheet has slipped down to hug the curve of her hips, leaving the expanse of skin open to my fingers. I rest my cheek against the pillow as one hand strokes the fallen hair from her face and the knuckles of my other hand trace the grooves of her back, the muscles waking up under my touch.  
“What are you giggling about?” Her voice is scratchy, a dimple threatening to make an appearance.  
“I was thinking about the first time I ever came over to hang out,” I whisper shyly, brushing my thumb across her cheek.  
“Yeah? That feels like a lifetime ago,” she grins as she stretches, bringing my hand up to her lips.   
I swallowed thickly at the feeling of her lips against my knuckles, at the feeling of her fingertips tickling down my palm. Part of me feels guilty because it’s not meant to be sexual, and I don’t want her to think I don’t feel the seriousness of her touch. I don’t ever want her to think she’s less than what she truly means to me, and I can’t stop the lopsided grin that forms at the memory of our first kiss. It’s a memory brought on by the feeling of her palm resting on my cheek and the pad of her thumb brushing against the thickest part of my top lip.  
I don’t things were ever completely platonic between us. We never really had an actual conversation about what that meant for us; I just think there was this innate, mutual understanding that there were feelings. This was so different than anything I’d ever experienced. The buildup of trust was raw and real and new. She had never kissed anyone. It came out as a shy confession, followed by an even shyer revelation that she’d never had her hand held. I knew this and the only thing in the world that I cared about in that moment was that she got to feel someone’s palm against hers for the first time. So, I gently whispered that I was going to hold her hand.  
Our first kiss came nine weeks after we first met. She was self-conscious about that. I would have waited a lifetime for a chance to kiss her. It came as a surprise. One minute, I was sitting with a brailler in front of me, tongue poking out in concentration as her fingers positioned mine in the correct combinations for the letter B, then an R, followed by an I. I gasped at this, feeling proud that by letter T I was able to complete Dots two, three, four, and five on my own. She giggled at my excitement. Her hands moved mine to spell something I didn’t recognize at first. She voiced the letters as she gently pressed my fingers down.  
“C, a, n, space, I, space, k, i, s, s, space, y, o, u… question…” she bit her lip as she pressed my fingers into the combination for a question mark.  
“Of course,” I didn’t move my hands from hers. I just let her brush her thumb against the thickest part of my top lip. My heart was going to bounce right out of my chest. It was slow and soft and gentle, tentative. She wasn’t sure what to do with her lips, but they felt perfect against mine. She halted, silently asking me to take the lead. I kissed her a little harder, just enough for her mouth to loosen and react.  
I kissed the thumb that was tracing the same spot it’s been tracing expertly for four and a half years, “It’s the best life ever.”  
“I love you,” she whispers after lifting herself from her stomach, lowering herself onto my front. It’s a sensory thing, wanting to feel every part of her body grounded and in control. I can’t help myself from taking in the way her muscles ripple, the way a piece of my own hair sways in the path of her breathing as she tucks her face into my neck.  
“I love you, too, baby,” my hands on her hips slide down to the under sides of her knees, urging her to bend her legs so that she’s half straddling me, half tucked into me. She gasps as my hands trail a path up the back side of her thighs, over her hips, over the xylophone of her ribs, coming to a gentle pause at skin of her breasts. “Do you want me to go further?”  
She doesn’t verbalize a response; she just nods with urgency and with a hand that caresses through my hair. She holds my face in place as my lips make firm, wet lines across her pulse. There’s a confidence in the way she breathes and the way she holds me as I make her gasp. It’s a confidence that I helped build within her by, consistently and without fail, showing her with her hands the affect she has on me.  
“Please.”  
I sit up and bring her legs to bracket my hips, resting my back against the headboard. Her fingers find their way to either side of my face, her lips kissing me hard as a moan slips past them. My fingers follow the patterns of the tendons in her neck starting to strain, down to the grooves above her collarbones, to the swells of her breasts. I take my time running my knuckles against the skin where they meet her torso. My eyes follow the path my fingertips make down her abs, watching the skin twitch as I brush just under where a small pudge in her belly forms from her position against me. I watch the way she sucks a lip between her teeth as I sneak a finger between her labia, the pad of my finger coming to rest where she needs me most.  
“Are you ready?” I ask and she smiles. Knowing what’s coming helps her process things she can’t see. I laugh because her response is a roll of her hips and a gentle knock of her forehead against mine. Her smile turns into an open-mouthed moan as I start a gentle pattern against her clit. I can’t help my own moan when her hands find my breasts, palming against me as she starts rocking. The wetness gathers there on my fingers, my throat suddenly dry. I slip two fingers down and in and groan at the way her body seems to sink into and accept me. My thumb plays at her clit, letting her hips set the motions.   
“You’re so beautiful,” I gasp out as she leans her cheek into my palm, turning to kiss it at my words.  
“I love you,” she can barely get the words out on a particularly hard rock of her hips. My eyes almost cross as I feel her hand trailing between us. I didn’t realize how ready I was until I felt myself being spread. Her free hand is gripping my bicep with all her might as if she lets go, she’s going to float away. I feel myself already on the edge, but I’m ready to see that look on her face, those creases between her eyebrows. I’m ready to feel the twitch of her lips against mine when she moans her release into me.  
I harden my thrusts, curling my fingers, “come for me, San.”  
I swallow the lump in my throat as she tips her head back, creases between her brows prominent. Her hair tosses down her back as she shudders and loses rhythm. Her fingers against me lose rhythm, too. But the messy touches launch me into a release I wasn’t expecting. She leans forward against me, breathing into my ear how beautiful I am. In this moment, with her hand still tightly curled around my bicep, my palm still against her cheek, our hands still bringing each other down, I realize her mind is my reason, her heart is my passion, and her arms are my shelter.


	13. Steadfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to focus on anything with the way her head, heavy and tired, rests against the curve of my neck as we sway slowly.

Her quiet snores are barely audible with the chirp of crickets outside and the gentle hum of our ceiling fan. There's a stray piece of hair dancing in the path of every inhale and exhale, and I have to resist the urge to brush it away. It took far too long for her to fall asleep with the hum and excitement of the rehearsal dinner still lingering, keeping the threads of sleep too far out of our grasps until the early hours; waking her now would be a crime. I settle for cradling the hand she slipped into mine as her eyes started to droop and her excited murmurs drifted into hums. I'm not sure what pulled me from my sleep in the first place, but with the feeling of her ring against my skin and the thought of her walking down the aisle tomorrow, I doubt I will be falling back to sleep.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the buzz of my phone; the screen is too bright for four in the morning, but I smile.

_How are you doing? Is San asleep?_

_Thank you for checking on us. She finally fell asleep about an hour and a half ago._

_It's going to be perfect. Try to get some sleep, okay? We'll be there around ten o'clock._

_Thank you for everything, Rach._

_We love you, B._

I lean over to the nightstand and startle a little as I feel her fingers caressing mine.

"Hi," I murmur as I brush her sleep-messed hair from her face.

"Can't sleep?"

"Too excited."

"Mmhm," she agrees, and I kiss her knuckles as they brush against my cheek.

My breath catches in my throat as I feel the hand not caressing my cheek tangle in my shirt. She moves closer and brushes her lips against mine. It's soft, gentle. It's everything you could want in a four am kiss. It's the feeling of her fingers at the nape of my neck that finally lull me into sweet sleep.

The pinks and oranges of the sunrise start to seep through the curtains as conscious thought starts to seep through my being. It's the smell of coffee and the feeling of gentle scratches up and down my back that cut me from the last few threads of sleep.

San chuckles as I shift and bring her down to lay against my chest.

"Quinn's going to be stealing you away from me until tonight. I have to make the most of our time and get as many kisses as possible."

"Is that so?" Her voice is probably a little more flirty than intended. I'm not complaining.

"Mmhm," I hum, relishing in the way the muscles in her back shiver as my hands run over them.

"Who am I to deny you, then?" Her lips press against my forehead, lingering as if to take in all of emotions storming in the synapses that lay just beneath the skin she's kissing.

"What's going on in that pretty head?" She smiles as she feels my finger trace down the bridge of her nose, wrinkling it at the tickling sensation.

"We're getting married today," her whisper comes out strong and beautiful.

"We are," I giggle as I take her face between my hands, thumbs wiping the stray tears. A knock on the door brings us out of the moment, and I steady her as the sudden sound makes her jump.

"We have to go get pretty now," she whispers against my lips before getting up to let the girls in.

It's hard to watch her leave with Quinn for the rest of the day; call me clingy, I guess. It's difficult to part from the kiss she presses against my lips, but my heart thumps against my ribs at the realization that the next time I kiss her, it'll be as wife and wife.

"I'll see you soon, baby," I whisper against her lips as she takes my face between her hands.

"Enough kiss-face. Let's go get you guys married," Quinn huffs as she carries the totes out the front door.

I can feel the steady thump of my heart and the throb of my pulse as Rachel is gliding the zipper of my gown up. It's been steadily increasing since we arrived at the venue and I watched San disappear with her mom and Quinn.

The gentle tickle of the blush brush across my cheeks brings me out of my reverie. I don't process her words until she's resting her hand on my knee and sliding a chair to sit in front of me.

"What's going on in your head, B?" Rachel's question comes out so soft that I nearly jump. My mom is taming stray hairs, putting the finishing touches on my veil, when I ask her to check on San. We both watch the door click closed from the corner of our eyes.

My next words are shaky at best, "she deserves everything in this world."

"What makes you think that you don't?"

"I-," Rachel cuts me off gently, her hands gripping my shoulders now.

"You love her beautifully, and she loves you; that is all you need to know. You will grow together," her voice cracks but it makes me feel exponentially better.

"You're not going to tell me how she looks, are you?"

"Not a chance," Rachel laughs around the tears still stuck in her throat.

A gentle knock brings us out of the moment, the door opening just enough for Quinn's voice to be heard. My mind goes a little fuzzy in realization as she tells me to close my eyes. Rachel gasps as the door opens gently. I clench my eyelids together hard enough for it to hurt. Maybe if I hold tight enough to the tears starting to well up, they won't fall and give me away-

"Hi, baby," the rasp in her voice and the hands that have slipped into mine ground me, roots the thoughts of the life we're starting together further into my soul.

It feels strange, her lifting my hands to her face. The skin there is soft, and her lips threaten to quiver as I trace the apples of her cheeks. My breath catches in my throat as I allow my fingers to feel for me for the first time. The door clicks closed as my fingertips tickle her jawline and she sighs into my touch. Her pulse quickens at the intensity of our moment, practically vibrates beneath the bare skin of her collarbones. Mine quickens as her thumb soothes my cheek and she trails her fingertips against the curves of my neck; her palm comes to rest against my heart, "Hi, San."

My breath shutters as her fingertips, so sensitive and attentive and confident, feel like feathers down the lace flowers sitting so perfectly upon my shoulders. The tears that threatened to fall when she first walked in are now dampening the creases of my nose, following the curves of my jaw.

"Please don't cry, Britt. You're so beautiful," I choke down a sob and giggle at her words

"I'm going to look at you now, San," she nods as her fingertips find the spine of buttons down the length of my back, goosebumps blooming in the wake of their path.

Tears blur my vision as my eyes peel open, watching her fingers as they trace the deep cut of fabric against my chest. The barely-there feel of her fingertips are the heaviest feeling I've ever felt, and I never want it to end. I gasp at the way lace flowers adorn her shoulders; at the way they sparkle in the light. She giggles at the way the very tip of my finger finds the skin underneath and lingers there. I feel the heat of a blush spreading down from my ears to the expanse of skin and lace.

"You feel so beautiful," she whispers just as softly as her fingers graze the heavy lace at the flare of my hips.

"I don't think I would have been able to breathe at the altar, seeing you in this dress. I can barely breathe now," I murmur as I take in the strip of skin showing through sheer, lace flowers just below the deep valley of skin. The soft tumble of curls against the white of her gown bounce gently as she leans in to hide her face in the protective curtain of my hair.

Her voice is velvet against my ear, her breath tickling, "You're going to be my wife."

A gentle rap of knuckles against the door pulls us out of our cocoon, a smiling Quinn poking her face in.

"It's time," Quinn is giddy, hazel eyes knowing and shimmery.

Time stands still and moves all at once in the moments leading me to the altar. I'm sure my fingers are leaving impressions on my dad's arm, as I feel the warmth of his palm as he pats the top of my hand. Rachel is discreetly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she helps me into place. My mom is nodding, hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes, when I look over to her. I nod back at her and wink. Quinn isn't sure who to look at first, me or Rachel. There's so much love shimmering in her eyes and I'm sure it's going to overflow when San enters.

The pianist shifts to Santana's music as her dad appears in the doorway, his arm extended and waiting. And, just like that, in a whirl of white, with a bounce of dark locks and a smile I will never tire of kissing, there she is.

Suddenly, there's a mirage, glimpses of the life we're about to build, in place of the aisle. If I try hard enough, I can feel the way she'll feel in the early morning hours of our honeymoon, sweaty and sated. I can feel the way her ring will clink against mine as we sit at our usual café booth, watching the sunrise. I can smell the way she'll smell after a long day of work and the way those cherry blossom bubbles will take away the frustration and grime of that day. I can hear her voice harmonizing, unable to sleep, as the dusk meets the dawn. I can taste the way her lips will taste after pancakes and syrup on a lazy Sunday morning in bed.

Right now, though, the sight of her walking down the aisle is the one thing I never knew I needed. My chest is tight, and my cheeks are wet, and they hurt from the smile that I haven't been able to get rid of. And suddenly, through a teary, slow blink, there she is.

"Hi, baby," my whisper dances across her knuckles as Quinn fixes her train against the steps.

"Hi, beautiful."

My heart beats out of my chest as the officiant starts, "Today, we all have the privilege and the joy of joining Santana Marie and Brittany Susan in their journey. I could quote scripture or recite lines about what marriage is, but I feel as though Santana and Brittany can express those feelings with more precise emotion. With that said, Brittany would like to have this moment with Santana."

"San," my voice breaks and she squeezes my fingers, "You are as steady and present and needed as my own heartbeat. I fell in love with you gradually and all at once, and I have never stopped falling since. The way you command this world, the way you persevere, it's breathtaking. You remind me that there are so many ways to take this world in, and I want to take this world in with you forever. I love you more than anything else in this world. I think our forever started years ago, but now we get to have our forever as wives. My love for you comes in many forms, and I would like for you to have this tactile reminder," Rachel hands me the wedding band and San is shaking so hard that I lift her fingers to my lips before slipping her ring on.

"I love you, B," her words are shaky as I press kisses to her knuckles, "You came into my life with such beautiful elegance. You never questioned us, me. Your belief in me is staggering; sometimes I'm afraid that you don't believe in yourself as much as you believe in me. Today, and for forever, I will always remind you to love yourself the way you care for me: utterly and completely whole. You've held my hand so simply and easily that it feels like home. Everything with you feels like home," her breath hitches as Quinn guides my ring into her palm, "and this ring is a tactile reminder of the home we've built together."

My hand shakes as she slips my ring into place before lifting it to her lips. I can't hold back any longer as I cradle her cheeks between my palms. Her head tilts gently, her lips accepting mine with eagerness.

I vaguely hear the officiant laugh and our friends and family erupt in laughter, "Since you're already kissing, I pronounce you wife and wife!" San giggles at this and I press my lips against her forehead before we make our way down the aisle together.

The night is a blur of greetings, congratulations, and hugs. It's hard to focus on anything but the way she smiles as she dances with her dad. I clear the tears from my throat at the way she throws her head back in laughter as Rachel whispers in her ear, and at the was Quinn chastises Rachel for whatever she just whispered.

It's hard to focus on anything with the way her head, heavy and tired, rests against the curve of my neck as we sway slowly. Our guests have long since thinned out, last hugs and congratulations shared. It's hard to focus when my fingertips tickle the bare skin of her back. Her fingers are caressing my skin through the sheer material at the top of my spine, and she's humming the lyrics to whatever song is playing into my ear.

"Are you ready to head out, baby?"

I feel the smirk in her lips as they press against my ear, "I love you, wife."


	14. Seashells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated M (not explicit)  
> In light of everything that has happened recently, this is where my brain was and what came of my grief. It's happy and romantic, just like I know Santana and Brittany are right now.

The sun begins to kiss the horizon and the salt in the air stings the fresh pink of my cheeks as I listen to her laugh. The shore licks at her toes and the breeze blows dark locks of hair into a tangled mess we’re going to struggle with later, without a doubt. Her cheeks are bunched, dimples popping, as her sure, confident steps squish sand between her toes. She’s going to complain for days to come when her cane tracks the trapped sand everywhere she goes, but, right now, all I can do is relish in the way she bends down to explore every rock and seashell her cane clacks against. Her fingertips vibrate against the various textures as she lifts each one to her ear, taking in each sound.  
Her hums travel through the air as though there is a bridge built specially for those sounds to reach my ears. A gasp escapes her lips, but I’m too busy watching the way her hair tickles her lips and how the wind sways her skirt in soft ripples. Her voice is soft and questioning when I realize she’s asked me something.   
Her smile is smirking and coy and incredible when she realizes I had been staring at her, and I blush, “What’d you ask, baby?”  
She taps her cane against a shimmery conch shell and giggles, “That isn’t a normal shell, B. What is it?”  
“It’s called a conch shell. They say you can hear the ocean’s heartbeat when you put it against your ear.”   
She’s hesitant to touch it, but I can tell she’s itching to, “Is it safe to touch?”  
“Of course. Come ‘ere,” she smiles as we bend at the knees and the warm, wet sand gives way under us. She’s warm from the sun against my front and I laugh out loud as she presses my cheek against her lips for a wet, lingering kiss.  
“Is it sharp?”  
“There are ridges and spikes, but the spikes are pretty dull from weathering,” she nods as her fingers tickle my wrist, inching ever so slowly toward the shell. “Follow my fingers to the inside of the shell. It’s so smooth.”  
“But, where does the shell come from? Why is it so large?”  
“It’s kind of like a snail that builds its own shell from chemicals in the water. They just grow and grow.”  
“The shell reminds me of braille; I can almost read this conch’s life,” her voice is full of wonderment as she traces the spikes and flares and ruffles.  
My breath hitches in the same way it did when her voice cracked and her hands shook in those few moments alone in that dressing room. Her fingers are reading the shell the same way they read me; thoroughly, deeply, without hesitation. They’ve long since forgotten about the conch. Her arm stretches back from her position in my lap, her fingers webbing and caressing and conforming to the side of my head. She smiles an openmouthed smile against the kiss I press against her lips and giggles, twisting her body to fall with me into the sand.  
“Hi there,” she squirms and buries her face into my neck as my, her laughter increasing and vibrating against my skin.  
Her whispered “hi” is soft and warm against my ear. My heartbeat thunders in my throat as her skirt flares out and her thigh comes to rest low across my belly.   
The sand and sea water glisten against her sun-kissed skin, and her nose scrunches as I brush bits of sand from her eyebrows.   
“We’re gonna have sand everywhere, aren’t we?”  
“I guess we’ll have to do something about that,” her tone is playful and raw and lilting.  
“Oh? What’d you have in mind?”  
“You sure are in the gutter, Mrs. Wife.”  
“Oh, huh. I guess me and my gutter brain will just have to wash this sand off all by myself,” I try to remain serious but the way she gasps and pulls her thigh tighter against me has me laughing into her hair.  
“You wouldn’t dare. That’s my job.”  
“You’re job, huh? You just want me for my body.” I gasp at the way she shrugs in joking agreement, “I knew it.”  
“Let’s go, Britt,” she husks as she starts to sit up, “I’m really good at my job.”  
I groan. The sticky heat and salty air have me particularly dehydrated, but her words seem to send whatever moisture I have left in me south.   
“San,” I can’t remember the last time she had me this flustered. She looks so smug and I practically trip over my toes to keep up with her retreating figure.  
Her cheeks are warm against my palms, her breaths heavy and concentrated as her nose grazes mine. The heat of the bathroom surrounds us, cocoons us. The wet material of her skirt hangs low on her hips, slipping with every backward step toward the shower. Her hand grasps for the knobs, slipping and failing many times before the cool of the water calms the sting in our sun-soaked skin. Her skirt slinks to the floor and her grip is firm on my shoulders as she kicks it against the tile with a reverberating smack.  
Her fingers trail against the long, tile wall as she gently walks me backwards. I feel the strings of my top loosen and her lips trail the path of beads of water. Her fingers read me like a story, eager to glean each gasp and sigh and moan like a voracious reader devours plots. She kisses a trail of fire in the water’s wake, her fingers slipping the bow on my hip loose. The skin of my thigh erupts in goosebumps and she hums as I moan. She nips at my hipbone as the bow on my other hip loosens and she tosses the material away.   
My knees almost buckle at the warmth I feel between them. She’s gentle and slow, a great contrast to the nails forming crescents in the thigh she slips over her shoulder, and, soon, the bathroom feels with more than steam as my moans echo against the walls. She breathes short huffs into the inside of my thigh, kissing and soothing as my hips calm. I’m not sure where my strength comes from as I right myself to loop my arms under her thighs as she stands. She gasps at the sudden upward movement but it’s not long until her head is falling against the tile and her hips shaking in an arch between the wall and my hand. She presses a fist against her mouth to stifle her noises, but understands when I thread my fingers through hers and press them against the wall above us. She doesn’t dare hold back again as I untangle our hands to brace her sturdily against the wall.   
In this moment, hearing these sounds, feeling the way she feels, it’s hard to hold back the lump that forms in my throat. Her pulse is racing in her throat and her gasps burn a permanent home in my memory. Her hips stiffen and the skin of her ribs ripple. And, as she arches against me, fingers sure to leave bruises, I realize she reminds me of the arches and ridges and ruffles of seashells: breathtaking, ever-growing, and magnificent.


	15. Surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re going to be an amazing mom, San,” she sighs at this, but I continue, “we’re going to find the perfect doctor for us. I know that you’re questioning a lot right now, and I could never pretend to know exactly what this feels like for you. But you’re going to be so amazing. You are so amazing. Our child is going to be so loved and they’re going to know how hard they were fought for, how hard you fight every day.” My voice cracks and she nods vigorously against my chest, her tears seeping into the fabric of my shirt.

“San, you okay in there?” I can hear her dry heaves through the closed door, so I’m not sure what prompts me to ask this. I grab a ponytail holder from the counter and slide in behind her. Her fingers have a white-knuckled grip on the edges.

“I think I’m having contractions,” she attempts around a gag as she catches her breath. A whimper breaks her voice, but she sighs when she feels me lifting her hair off her sweaty neck.

“When did they start, San? Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” I cringe as the question comes out before I can stop it. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m upset.

“I didn’t want to interrupt game night. Fuck, B, it really hurts.”

“Shh, baby. I’m right here. Come ‘ere,” I whisper as I bring Santana against my front as tightly as I can. I mimic a pattern of breathing for her to imitate, to focus on. Her hands are shaking, searching for something to ground herself. She squeezes once my hand slips into hers, her fingers flexing against the counterpressure my hand provides.

“Britt,” the whine comes out in a gasp, and I have to grit my jaw to keep the tears out of my voice.

“Breathe, baby. You can do it,” I breathe into her ear, caressing her cheek with one hand, my other hand providing continuous pressure. “Has your water broken yet?”

“No, the contractions just started,” she whispers as she lays her head back on my shoulder, humming as my hand sweeps the hair from her face.

“Do you want to lie down, or go sit with them in the living room?” I ask quietly, placing a kiss against her hairline.

“I don’t want to worry them,” her answer is shaky as she tucks herself further into me.

“I think they’d be more worried if they didn’t get to help us through this. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, not even for a second,” she nods at this as she rides through another contraction, her hand trembling in mine as she bites back the groan.

We take our time to breathe before she moves to the sink. Her hands are still a little shaky and she struggles with the toothpaste. She sounds defeated when she asks in a huff, “Britt, I’m shaking too much for this. I’m gonna get toothpaste everywhere.”

It’s what she dislikes most in the entire world—having to ask for help with things she’s worked her entire life to do independently. She defeatedly hands me her toothbrush and toothpaste, her hands kneading her lower back as she waits. I press a kiss against her cheek as she brushes and I leave her be to process the anxiety that asking for help manifested.

“Q, my move is totally, without a doubt, one hundred percent bullet proof. You play this move and you’ll win every time!” I hear Rachel exclaim, evidently trying to convince her girlfriend she’s right.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.” Quinn says through a giggle, which makes me giggle. They look up from their game when they hear me laughing.

“Who’s winning?” I ask around a laugh as I nod toward the game.

“I am,” Rachel sounds serious, but the squeal Quinn lets out as she pokes her side tells a different story.

Quinn’s laughter evens out as she looks past my shoulder at Santana making her way down the hall.

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks sweetly as she watches Santana take slow, careful steps.

“I’m having contractions,” Santana murmurs through a half smile.

Rachel squeals quietly and giggles into her hands.

“Finally! We’ve been waiting for this debut forever,” Rachel exclaims in all her loving glory and I can’t help but to nod, because she’s right.

“They're a week late—they better make their debut,” Santana’s huffy and uncomfortable and I hate that there’s nothing I can do.

Quinn is already reaching for her phone as she nods in my direction, “I’m going to see when they want you to come in, San.”

She starts with a response which turns into a hiss when another contraction sneaks up on her. Doctors and nurses have been by our sides every step of the way, but no amount of reassurance and scans and breathing practice has prepared me for seeing her in this kind of pain.

She grunts and gestures to her back, “I’m feeling everything here.”

“Deep breath, baby. There we go,” I whisper as I roll my palms gently into Santana’s lower back. She grips the edges of the kitchen island, attempting to push her back into her my hands harder.

“It’s not going away,” she whines and rolls her head back.

“Would you like to go ahead and go to the hospital, San?” I try my hardest not to worry, but I’m failing miserably.

“The doctor says they want you to come in when the contractions are every four minutes, or if you water breaks,” Quinn’s voice is melodic and soothing, “you should change your position, San. Let’s get the pressure off your back.”

Rachel, almost comically, gasps and shoots off the couch. I can hear her trying to get the birthing ball down the hallway. With just a few crooked picture frames along the way, she manages to get it to the living room with a resounding, “Ha!”

Quinn is stifling her laughter with a hand under her nose and has to wipe a tear when Santana asks, “ _the ball_?”

We manage to gather ourselves after a while and I guide Santana to the ball and wait for her to find the most comfortable position. She rolls the ball closer to the couch so that she can brace herself as she sits. I only help long enough to keep the ball steady. She sighs in relief as she leans against the couch, her hips rocking gently back and forth.

“What do you need, baby?” I ask gently as I guide her swaying movement.

“Just you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the arm she lays flat on the cushion.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she hums in response to the way my palms soothe the pain in her back.

Feeling the need to support her best friend in any way she could, Rachel worked on preparing the house, keeping it as calm and soothing as possible.

After a while of soothing the back aches, Santana asks me to help her up, taking Quinn’s suggestion of walking. She turns to wrap her arms around my shoulders and presses her face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

“You’re okay, baby. Has the pain moved?” I wince, briefly, at the way she startles at my whispers.

Her fingers comb the baby hairs back behind my ear as she soothes my guilt, and I can’t help but reminisce on the journey that lead us to this moment. It’s a journey that started in the early morning pinks and oranges of dawn, much like so many of our moments.

_“How are you feeling about today?” Her voice is tender and attentive, but there’s a sadness in the way her hands hold my shirt._

I remember the way her hands trembled and the tear that rolled down the bridge of her nose. I remember the way it scrunched as I kissed her between the eyes. I remember thinking that my anger wouldn’t do us any good.

_“I’m angry,” I sigh and she tenses, “but, Dr. Abbott said that there are no indications that pregnancy or delivery would have any negative effects on your eyes or your health. I know they shared really scary stories, but she’s scanned your brain and your eyes. She said your optic nerves are stable and can withstand the pressure of pushing. If we need to have a c-section, we will. But we have every opportunity for a healthy delivery”_

She’s tensing against me as another contraction starts, but I can’t help smiling. We’d come so far to get to this moment and the tenseness in her muscles right now are vastly different from the kind that caused her so much pain that night—

_“The doctor said CPS is involved with one in four of families like us. He said blind mothers have had their rights terminated. He said it would be easier for you to carry, and it’s really hard, right now, for me not to agree, Britt!”_

_“You’re going to be an amazing mom, San,” she sighs at this, but I continue, “we’re going to find the perfect doctor for us. I know that you’re questioning a lot right now, and I could never pretend to know exactly what this feels like for you. But you’re going to be so amazing. You are so amazing. Our child is going to be so loved and they’re going to know how hard they were fought for, how hard you fight every day.” My voice cracks and she nods vigorously against my chest, her tears seeping into the fabric of my shirt._

_“We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” Her words come out in a rushed whisper and I can’t help but to laugh as I bring her lips against mine._

“I think we need to go to the hospital, Britt,” her sudden announcement brings me out of the memory. There’s a slight sheen of sweat in her hairline and I can tell another contraction is following on the previous one’s heels.

“I’ll get Quinn to call Dr. Abbott and then I’ll pack the car,” she wipes some sweat from her brow with the heel of her hand and murmurs in agreement.

We both chuckle a little when Rachel comes through with an armful of bags and manages to open the front door.

“You guys head that way and we’ll be there shortly,” Quinn whispers around the phone receiver, “Dr. Abbott says she’ll stand by, and says to tell you that you’re going to do great, San!”

Aside from one painful contraction and some groaning that could rival her singing voice, the drive to the hospital is pretty uneventful. She’s breathing heavily as I pull the car into a spot and park, her knuckles tight around the grab handle. She moves to unbuckle herself when I turn the engine off.

“I’m not sure if I want my cane or not, B,” she’s a little shaky and I can hear it in her voice.

“I’ll grab it just in case, baby. You okay to walk or do you want me to get a wheelchair?”

She refuses immediately, adamant about walking, as she braces herself on my shoulders and stands. We get a few surprised looks as people take in her cane. My arm is curled around her back for balance and her right hand has a tight grip on my mine. Her doctor rounds the corner and smiles gently in our direction.

“Hi, Santana and Brittany! We have a room set up and I just got off the phone with Dr. Abbott. Ready?” We had a rough start, but we ended up finding the perfect doctor.

“Uh huh,” it comes out as a squeak and the doctor gives us a moment to breathe before guiding us to our room.

Rain starts to pitter patter against the window in almost the same pattern as the water I trickle down her back. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but dark hair has fallen out of the bun I tied and rocking of her hips doesn’t seem to be relieving the back labor. I ease the hair plastered against her face away from her eyes, scooping her hair back up into a tighter bun.

“Thank you,” her voice is strained and tired as she tenses and groans openly into the room. Her nurse had checked her not too long ago and said it would be a while, and that was no exaggeration.

She transitioned from the bed to the tub after the back pain caused her to be sick, but it hasn’t helped. We even tried the birthing ball for her hips, but that hasn’t helped either. Her contractions moved to her back and they haven’t eased since. She swears she can’t do it, but I swear she’s the strongest woman I have ever met.

There’s a gentle tapping of knuckles on the door as it opens slowly, and Clara, the nurse with a soft, gentle voice comes in carrying a contraption I’m not quite sure what to call.

“Hi, Santana. I have a birthing bar here. I was thinking we could connect it to the bed and we can try to stretch some of this back pain out. Are you up for that?”

“Yes, please,” the relief in her voice and the strain with which she stands and leans into me makes me tear up.

“The bar is set up at a slight incline forward, and what you’ll do is hold onto the horizontal bar, squat, and let gravity drop your hips,” she’s kind as she explains, allowing San to figure out the position on her own. She checks her temperature and oxygen levels before leaving us to take in the rain and thunder.

“How does it feel?”

“So good, Britt,” I have to stifle some laughter that I’m sure she hears anyway.

She leans to the side, her cheek resting against her arm, and I can’t help but to lean up and steal a kiss. She smiles into it before gasping. It scares me and I think she’s having another contraction, but she suddenly whispers, “I’m naked, B!”

“You are,” she huffs at my attempt to flirt, but laughs lightly into my lips. “Would you like your gown?”

“Please,” her voice is strained and startled by a sudden contraction, “Wait, don’t go!”

“I’m right here, baby,” she lifts her head up as I crawl onto the bed in front of her. I catch the bead of sweat trailing her jaw with my thumb, caressing there as she leans into the touch. Her thighs tremble as the tendons in her neck strain, her breaths getting stuck in the middle of it all.

I’m not sure who lays down first or how long we lay there or how many contractions come and go, her hand holding mine tightly to her chest, before she says she feels pressure.

“Really? You think this is it?”

It takes a few tries and breaths to get her response out as I brush a few stubborn hairs from her face, “Can you let everyone know we’re close, and they should head this way?”

“Okay,” I whisper against her forehead before getting up to find my phone. San presses the call button as I send them the first text.

_San is close. You guys should head this way…_

_Really?! Okay, we’re loading up now. Is there anything you want us to pick up? Parents and Abuela are here, too._

_I think I’m okay. They’re checking her now, but she feels pressure._

_We’ll be there soon, B. You’re gonna do great. Both of you._

“They’re heading this way, babe,” she hums in response as Clara knocks gently.

“How are you feeling, Santana? I’m going to lift the blanket to check, okay?” She’s patient and kind and waits for San to give her the go ahead.

“There’s a lot of pressure,” her voice is shaky but Clara hums and reassures us this is normal.

“Did the pressure get worse after your water broke?”

“Mmhm,” San’s response trails into a gasp and a whine, “almost immediately.”

We count San through the contraction and let her catch her breath before continuing, “I’m going to go get the team and then I want you to give me some practice pushes, ok? You’re ready; you’re doing so great!”

She brings my hand up to her mouth, placing a hard kiss on it, before whispering, “We’re going to be moms, Britt.”

I can’t help the cry that escapes and I lean into the hand she lays against my cheek. A knock on the door brings us out of our moment, and I get butterflies, “I love you.”

“Hi, ladies! Are we ready? It’s just me and Olivia. She’s going to monitor the machines and be an extra hand if needed,” Clara explains as she sets up the bedding.

“There are a few positions you can choose from, and I’ll show you each one,” Olivia is calm and patient and I will never be able to thank this team enough for what they’ve done for us.

“I want you to prop your legs up with your feet touching, and then I want you to drop your knees out to the sides,” she’s gentle in her guidance, “how does this feel?”

Santana tenses before she can respond and bites out, “Oh my— I need to push. I’m sorry!”

“You’re okay, honey. Push!” The nurses count her through the cycle before guiding her to release her breath.

“I don’t feel grounded enough,” I can tell she’s feeling panicky and disconnected, so I cradle the back of her thigh in a tight grip and wipe the dark hair from her face with my free hand. Olivia takes my lead seamlessly with her other leg.

Her grip on my hand rhythmically loosens and tightens in time with her heaving chest as she works to ground herself. She’s so beautiful in this moment, always, but especially now.

“I’m right here, baby,” I whisper, realizing Clara and Olivia have been here with us the entire time. They’re waiting with an unrivaled amount of patience, ready and encouraging.

“I want you to tuck your chin against your chest and bear down,” she encourages, “We’re going to try for as many pushes as possible for one contraction.”

Santana follow’s her body’s instincts and curls into the next contractions. We get to eight before her push fades into a groan.

“You got this, baby,” I can tell she’s frustrated that she didn’t make it through the full count.

“Brittany’s right! Take a deep breath and curl in.”

Olivia cheers softly from Santana’s right side as we get to ten, “You got this, Santana! Take some breaths, okay?”

Santana groans openly on the next push and a bead of sweat rolls down off her chin and dampens her gown.

“Doing so good, San,” I’m not sure if she hears me over the roar of her heartbeat, but her grip on my hand gets tighter.

“I see hair, Santana! Lots of dark hair!” Santana laughs through the next push, which causes me to laugh.

I manage around a sobbing laugh to look down and see beautiful, dark tufts as she begins to crown, “Oh, my god, San! Our baby!”

Santana sobs through the next push and grips my hand like a lifeline, “Fuck!” Her chest heaves as the curse leaves her lips in a tumble of gasps and moans.

“Such a beautiful face, Santana! One more good push when I say, okay?” Clara clears our baby’s nose as Santana struggles not to push. They look at me to give her the go ahead.

“Push, baby!”

It only takes a count of six before we hear the rush of fluid and Santana moans in relief.

“We have a baby, Santana! You did it!” At the shrill, beautiful sound of first cries, her hand lets go of mine and grips my shirt as I press my forehead against hers.

“Here he is, mommies!” Clara lays our son directly onto San’s chest as she gently wipes the fluids from his eyes and mouth.

Her hands, always so strong and sure, are confident as one cradles his head and the other braces his back. And I can’t help but to sob into the kiss my wife presses into my lips. Our son’s tiny hands flail, and when Santana presses a kiss into the one that lands against her lips, I am so overwhelmed by the surreal realization that this is how our life was always meant to be.


	16. Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s here,” I take in their faces when I say ‘he’ and I can’t help but to tear up because we have a son.

_“Tell me again how I let you talk me into this,” her voice is soft and joking from her position on the bathroom floor. She has a towel pressed against her brow as she splays out like a starfish._  
_I fight the urge to laugh because she’s been battling a gnarly case of morning sickness that rivals that of her first trimester, and this seems to be the only position that helps._  
_“I brought you a pillow and crackers,” she hums at this and holds out her hand for the crackers._  
_“Thank you, B,” the bites she attempts are tiny, but they’re a big achievement._  
_There’s a quivery rawness in her voice that breaks my heart, but the gentle roundness of her bump makes me feel better about the fact that my wife— wow, my wife—hasn’t been able to move from the bathroom today._  
_She groans as I lift her shoulders long enough to slip a pillow under her, but she doesn’t last long before she’s gasping for the trashcan, begging me to lift her up._  
_“I’m so sorry, baby,” I choke up at the cries she manages around the heaves._  
_When her heaving stops and her breathing calms, she whispers for water._  
_She swishes the water in her mouth and spits it into the trashcan, wincing at the taste left in her mouth, “We’re going to hold our baby soon, Britt.”_  
Her sobs bring me out of our memory, and I take in the way our son’s cries vibrate his tiny body to the same rhythm of Santana’s.  
It’s when I smooth the furrow of her eyebrows and stroke back the damp hair stuck to her forehead, pressing my face into the side of hers, that she whispers, “You’re a mama, Britt.”  
I can’t help the involuntary laugh and nod that follows as I watch Clara place the clamp on his cord.  
“Here you go, mama. Just like this,” she must sense me hesitate as she braces my shaking hand.  
“Olivia’s going to measure and weigh him. Is it okay if I lift him from your chest?”  
“Yes, but you go with him, Britt. Okay?” I place a hard kiss into her cheek as I nod and she lets him be lifted.  
He whines and squirms against the stark white sheet he gets placed on, and I smile as his weight appears on the display.  
“Seven pounds, eight ounces, baby,” Santana smiles at this and I lose my breath at the sight.  
When he’s placed into my arms, a warmth I didn’t know existed fills my chest and spreads through my being, “What about your name, huh? What do you think?”  
He grunts in response and whimpers when he hears Santana’s voice, “Malachi. He’s our Malachi.”  
“Yeah? What do you think, Malachi?”  
He’s so warm and present in my arms that I can’t help but to lay a gentle kiss onto his forehead before securing his tiny hat. Dark tufts stick out from the edges and I can’t help but to think of Santana’s hair right after a shower, so wild and full.  
_The little hairs framing her face have started to curl from the humidity of our shower. Her chest heaves and her thighs tremble, still, around my hips as I trail a series of firm kisses up her pulsing throat. It’s not until she’s guiding my lips to hers with a gentle hand against my chin that our arms are still extended and our fingers are still locked in a vice._  
_I can’t help the urge to curl those little hairs around my fingers when I release her hand and she giggles, “what’re you doing?”_  
_“I love your hair like this.”_  
_“Like what?” She pecks my lips again before listening for my response._  
_“Beautiful.”_  
“Britt?” Her voice brings me out of my thoughts and I realize I’ve been quiet in my admiration of our son.  
“We’re here, babe– “  
Clara softly interrupts and waves me over, “I want you to try skin-to-skin to see if we can get Malachi to initiate nursing.”  
Santana starts to unbutton her gown as I sit on the edge of the bed, ready to tuck Malachi in. He fusses slightly as we turn him, but I have to remember to breathe when he settles against Santana’s chest and she cradles his tiny head, taking in the way he smells and feels.  
“Will he initiate on his own?”  
“Skin-to-skin is believed to stimulate a baby’s brain to move to mom’s breast, but if he doesn’t move on his own, we can help him,” Santana eases a little bit and sighs when I brush some stubborn hair from her face.  
“You’re settled and ready to rest, so we’re going to give you some time to yourselves, okay?”  
My heart races a little bit at the thought of being alone, but when Santana places a kiss to the exposed skin of his forehead, I know there’s nothing to be scared of.  
“Do you want me to let everyone know?”  
“Come here first, please,” she’s tired and her voice is a little hoarse, and she presses her forehead against mine as I climb in against her.  
When Malachi snuffles against her and starts to cry, she reaches for her gown.  
“Here, baby,” I pull gently at the fabric enough to free her shoulder as she moves him into position. It takes a little teamwork, but there’s a collective sigh of relief when his cries simmer and he finally latches.  
“Alejandro.”  
I’m so mesmerized by Malachi and the sound’s he’s making that she startles me, “Hmm?”  
“You love Alejandro, Britt. That’s his middle name,” she’s sniffling a little, which makes me tear up.  
“I do really love that name,” we both choke up a little and laugh when Malachi doesn’t seem to be phased by us.  
“You want to go let them know?”  
“Yeah,” she hums as a kiss her forehead before getting up.  
When I get to the waiting room, Rachel shoots up out of her chair. Quinn lays her book on the side table. My mom has her hands clasped against her mouth, and my dad’s eyebrows are raised so high in expectancy that they may fall off his face. Abuela is hard to read and I can tell she’s not sure how to proceed. Santana’s parents round the corner as I approach, and her mom almost drops the coffee she’s holding.  
Mr. Lopez breaks the silence, “Well?”  
“He’s here,” I take in their faces when I say _‘he’_ and I can’t help but to tear up because we have a son.


End file.
